


A Sailboat in the Moonlight

by foxfireflamequeen, kidslipstream



Series: Sailboat in the Moonlight [4]
Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxfireflamequeen/pseuds/foxfireflamequeen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidslipstream/pseuds/kidslipstream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First date. No kissing. <em>Yeah, right</em>.<br/>NSFW starting Chapter 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of an ongoing RP with ninjawing and kidslipstream. References to previous events have been minimized, but the order of events is as follows:
> 
> [Little Bird](http://archiveofourown.org/works/949371), [Tattoine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3556445%22), [He Wants the D](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3525911), and Sailboat in the Moonlight.

Just because Dick was trying to bribe Alfred with good behavior into taking out his stitches early didn’t mean Alfred would fall for it, and so Dick found himself faced with the terrible task of undressing and redressing— _six times_ —with his stitches from a stabbing during a run in with a gang the night before pulling with every flex of muscle. Half his closet lay spread out over his bed, neatly divided into three piles. Things Zatanna liked—which were mostly outgrown—things Barbara liked, and things Babs and Zee had both attempted to set on fire.

He put that pile back into his closet. The polka-dotted shirt was probably not a good choice for today.

Dick wouldn’t even mind if Alfred would help him find an _alternative_ to releasing pre-date jitters, but the English man was a firm believer in ‘sucking it up’.

Sighing, Dick pulled on a white button-down over his skinnies, strapping on his watch. Wally wouldn’t care _what_ he showed up in as long as he remembered the chocolates, and after the fifth time he’d gone down to ask Alfred if what he was wearing was okay, the butler had told him so.

It was just a date.

With his best friend.

And Dick just. Really, _really_ didn’t want to screw up this time.

He pocketed his wallet, grabbing one of the jackets in Babs’s pile and maneuvering himself into it as he walked down to the Batcave, stopping to collect the box of Godiva truffles he’d bought earlier.

It was going to be _fine_.

The zeta dropped him right next to the pizza place the speedsters liked to order from, and then it was a short walk to Wally’s house. Standing in _**front**_ of his best friend’s front door for maybe the third time in seven years, Dick hid the chocolates behind his back and rang the bell.

_No holding hands, no leaning too close, no footsie, no calling him boyfriend, no kissing._

Robin and Kid Flash were best friends first.

There was no reason he couldn’t pretend that’s all they were.

* * *

 

The freshly-showered Wally didn’t actually have much of a selection as he pawed through the clothes that he’d left at his parent’s house before leaving for Stanford. He wasn’t sure exactly how formal he should look for a date—a _date-date—_ with Dick, but he was going to look nice tonight whether he wanted to or not because most of his usual clothes were at school and the rest were in the laundry anyway.

So all that remained were the things Artemis had tried to cram him in but mostly failed.

They were probably really nice.

Not that he could tell.

After tossing aside a dress shirt with a white asymmetric criss-cross pattern on one side for a slightly more comfortable black lightweight sweater with some sort of built in dark-red popped collar, he shimmied into a pair of dark blue jeans with red stitching which were, _yikes_ , a little too tight ( _had he grown that much this year already?_ ), but they’d have to do.

He palmed some product through his hair to spike it up _just_ a little more than usual, and as he clapped on a little aftershave he paused, hands over his cheeks to stare at himself in the mirror.

_Would it ever get less weird to get_ _**dressed up** _ _to hang out with Dick?_

Maybe not.

But Wally couldn’t care less.

A grin slipped across his face as the doorbell rang, and he bounded down the stairs a little faster than he intended.

 _Would it ever get less weird to let his friend in through the_ _**front door** _ _instead of opening his window?_

Okay, no.

The yellow porch lights illuminated Dick on Wally’s doorstep, the faint scent of his mom’s petunias wafting through the humid Missouri air. He had his hands behind his back and wore dark skinny jeans, some kind of designer asymmetric jacket in a bright, crystalline blue that matched his eyes because …

… he wasn’t wearing glasses.

And the clever quip on the tip of Wally’s tongue evaporated because that would never, ever, ever not be weird.

"Uhm …" he recovered after a good five seconds of staring. He finally let his eyes drift to Dick’s elbows, half tucked behind him, and tried to lean around to see he was holding, but the little troll deftly turned away. "Dude, that better be chocolates because I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do with flowers."

“Put them in a _vase_ , West.” Dick shouldered his way past his best friend into the house, turning as he went so Wally wouldn’t spot what he was hiding behind him. “That’s what you do when someone gives you flowers. In this case, petunias.” He smiled widely. “Can’t you smell them?”

Because Dick could. Mrs. West liked to keep a small bunch of petunias in a vase in the living space right next to them, and there was quite a large patch of pretty strong-smelling petunias outside. Neither Dick nor Wally’s cologne was strong enough to cover up the sweet scent almost constantly wafting through the first floor of the West residence.

Wally started to roll his eyes when Dick claimed he got him petunias - _really_ his mom’s flowers were _right_ _there_. She wouldn’t _shut_ _up_ about petunias; they were her _favorites —_ but Dick was playing their game, banter like always, and the cock-sure teasing that came out of his mouth was … it was “right”; it was like things had always been, if you looked at the words; they sounded the same; it was the same …

… but it _wasn’t_.

Wally stared.

“I… didn’t actually get you flowers,” Dick said after a beat—or ten—pulling out the chocolates and holding it out like a peace offering, and for what was possibly the first time _ever_ , Wally’s eyes didn’t immediately go to the food. Robin could feel his cheeks heat up from the attention, so stepping forward, he pressed the box into Wally’s chest until the redhead’s hands rose to take them from him.

 _"I … didn’t actually get you flowers,”_ and Wally blinked: there it was again, just _maybe_ a split second off of Dick’s usual delivery? _Maybe_. There was something unusual, something that Wally couldn’t put his finger on no matter how he tried, and _surely_ he must be imagining it; he was just nervous. There was nothing to measure, nothing he could see or smell or touch or hear with any certainty so it must not be anything.

He was just nervous.

 _Why?_ _It’s just Dick; you’ve done this a thousand times; everything is going good, no monsters to fight, no trauma; we’re talking; we’re together; it’s all going According to Plan; nothing is_ _ **wrong**_ _, so everything’s chill; everything’s **great**. _

Wally didn’t even realize he was staring until he felt the press of a box against his chest and he reached up - _slowly, so slowly, where was time going?_ \- to take it. He had the greenest eyes, framed with thick, orange lashes, the faintest glimmer of gold at the edges of the iris, and those eyes were looking at Dick like nothing else existed in the whole world.

Robin dropped his gaze, suddenly shy, thoughts jumbled by the feeling of Wally’s fingers still brushing his and only a small square box separating them and _whoa_ , okay, that had definitely been something of a Moment.

Wally felt the tips of Dick’s fingers against his own, familiar calluses brushing over them, against the back of his hands, and Dick’s cheeks were - he was getting _red._ Wally’s chest tightened as watched the curtain of dark lashes fall over sparkling blue irises and -

 _This wasn’t new; it couldn’t be_ ; he’d seen Dick shy…ish before. But he couldn’t shake the feeling it was something he’d never seen, _ever_ , not in front of anyone, not Zee, not Babs.

Releasing the box, Dick pulled away, the ball of warmth in his chest coiling and expanding and _churningchurning **churning**_ and it was _excitingelectrifying **frightening**_ because he was _used_ to being looked at like that, he’d _learned_ to grow used to it, because there had been another person in his life who looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered, but Dick…

He wasn’t used to feeling the same way.

Wally frowned internally. He must be … he must have not paid enough _attention_ not to notice ... whatever this was before. He’d seen Dick in love enough times; he must have just overlooked this, or maybe this had been _private_ , reserved just for those lucky enough … and his chest got so tight he could hardly breathe from an overwhelming thrill.

‘ _You look nice,’_ rose unbidden to Dick's lips, but he didn’t say it because a) weird, and b) understatement of the year. Wally’s dark stealth suit usually washed out his pale skin, but the sweater’s dull black brought out the flaming hair that Dick wanted to weave his hands into as he kissed those slim lips pink and swollen.

“You ready, or do you need to _pretty up_ some more?” he teased, leaning on the nearest wall as much in an effort to be casual as for _balance_.

Or maybe Wally was seeing something wasn’t there at all, because Dick was leaning on the wall like the little sarcastic troll he was, asking him if he needed to pretty himself up, and he felt a twinge of regret, like he was letting something slip by that he should _**get**_ **.**

Robin hadn’t felt this off-center since the first time he stepped onto a tightrope higher than he was tall, when he was four years old and his dad was spotting him from only a few inches away, with the knowledge that if he fell his training would potentially be over before it could start.

This was even newer.

And ten times as terrifying.

But Dick craved it like he craved the rush of leaping off a twenty-storied building, uncontrollable and unfathomable and _addictive_.

Wally fumbled to catch up, and it finally dawned on him that he had _chocolates_ in his hand, and let all his mental wanderings fall away - _just his imagination, everything was the same, this was low-_ _ **key**_ _, there was nothing_ _ **actually**_ _different than usual, just a date_ \- to be replaced by the promise of chocolate, and he pawed open the container … which had its saran wrap already removed and the brown silk ribbon clearly retied, and was missing a chocolate on the left side.

"Dude, you _ate_ one? Party _foul_ ,” Wally protested, only half-caring, really. But he still jammed the lid back on and hugged it petulantly to his chest. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it because you just gave up your sharing rights. I get dibs on _all_ the rest.”

Dick just smirked. “That’s okay. I have dibs on you.”

Wally flushed unwillingly and narrowed his eyes for a second, before pouting and reaching out to take Dick’s hand: “Jerk.”

The chocolate box dropped to his side, but he didn’t put it down, even though he’d started tugging Dick outside. It was warm enough in early spring to step out without a jacket, so he just continued straight out the door, Dick in tow. Turning back to lock the door, though, he trapped Dick between it and himself, pinning the younger boy against it lightly, and cupping his face as he leaned in for a soft kiss.

Dick turned his face so the kiss landed on his cheek, smothering a laugh at Wally’s vaguely displeased look and batting his eyelashes coyly. “No kissing on the first date, Kid Etiquette.”

If they were doing this traditionally, he was going to be _traditional_. Dick Grayson did not do things half-assed.

Wally’s hold was light enough that he could just duck down under his arm, their hands still—surprisingly—linked, and head towards the zeta tube. Dick kept his fingers loose, in case Wally wanted to let go, but then they were beaming straight to Times Square and all Wally had done was shift his grip. On the box of chocolates under his other arm.

It made butterflies flutter in Dick’s chest.

…At least he could claim that he was _practically_ sixteen, even though he wasn’t exactly a girl.

“We’re taking the subway,” he informed as they emerged from the alley, and pulled Wally down the nearest station stairs. “Need to get cards. Hang on a sec.”

Finally untangling their hands, which had started to get sweaty but seriously it was impossible to be in the hero business and be bothered by _sweat_ , Dick found a vending machine and took out two MetroCards to last them a few trips. They swiped in, and were immediately hit by a wall of noise, music and singing and cheers and even a few chants coming from the corner. Someone bumped into him, and Dick quickly slid his arm through Wally’s just to make sure they didn’t get separated.

Finding the right train was a bit of a walk, but eventually they were sliding into a car, Dick finding himself crowded up against a pole and Wally having to reach around him to hold it. All of Saturday evening was essentially rush hour, everyone either going home or heading out.

New York was very similar to Gotham, with the same tall skyscrapers and bustling crowds and slums around corners, but it was less… draining, somehow. She didn’t claw at him the way Gotham did, but she _was_ interested. She was interested in everyone who walked within her boundaries, she _welcomed_ new faces. She was friendly and alluring, but she didn’t really need their kind. Heroes didn’t belong here. At least not yet.

The train started with a lurch, and Dick got thrown into Wally, backed into his slightly higher chest. Snorting, he tilted his head to look at his boyfriend.

And maybe pressed a little further back than was absolutely necessary.

“Why Mr. West. Fancy meeting you here.”

"Oh, hey Mr. Grayson, indeed," Wally grinned. "Yes, I’m on an _outing_ with a very good friend of mine.”

"Oh? And who would he be?"

"Just some hooligan," Wally shifted one foot in between Dick’s legs, flush against the pole to steady himself as he brought the box of chocolates around, bracing it on Dick’s chest as he opened it. "I hear he likes chocolates, though."

Wally snapped up the second and final strawberry flavored chocolate piece and held it up to Dick’s lips for him to take a bite. Dick bit off half with a smirk, staring Wally straight in the eyes as he swallowed.

"Oh ho, feeling generous are we, Mr. Grayson?" Wally murmured. He popped the second half into his mouth. "It’s been _noted_.”

The train jerked to a stop, essentially tossing Wally into Dick; he grabbed around his back, gripping the soft fabric of his jacket in a tight fist to keep from stumbling. His face was pressed almost cheek to cheek; the smell of cinnamon and honey, Dick’s super hipster natural designer gourmet whatever shampoo. Naturally, it made Wally want to suck his earlobe.

But that would be breaking the rules. Not to mention a minimum of decorum. But still.

He backed up as the train righted itself and tossed another chocolate into his mouth. Caramel. _Nice_.

"But seriously, no kissing on the first date? Really?"

Dick nodded solemnly, and Wally laughed. “Gotta say I have different ‘rules’.” _By which I mean none_ , he didn’t say as he pressed another chocolate to Dick’s lips, letting his fingers linger a little longer as Dick took it than was really necessary. “When did you last go on a first date, eighth grade?”

“It’s called being a _gentleman_ , West,” Dick replied primly, taking advantage of Wally’s deliberate slowness to suck the molten chocolate off the redhead's fingers. “Not that I’d expect _you_ to know.”

Two seats emptied as passengers dropped out, some of them actually taking time out of their busy lives to spare the obvious lovebirds annoyed glances. Dick offered an irate old woman a brilliant smile as he squeezed out from between Wally’s chest and the metal pole digging uncomfortably into his ribs, grabbing the empty seats before someone else could.

 _Man, Dick has a loose definition of “no kissing” because apparently “sucking things with his mouth” doesn’t count as “kissing”_ , Wally mused with a grin, as he let his now squeaky clean finger tips wrap back around the subway pole. _Like, would putting out count as long as there was no “kissing”_? _I mean, if you’re allowed to suck everywhere else -_

A soft breeze replacing the space where his boyfriend had been broke Wally’s train of thought, and he finally noticed that Dick had sidled over to a pair of empty seats. Before his ass was down next to him, the chocolates had wandered out of his hands and Dick was digging through them.

 _Dude-_ Wally started to say, but the soft slurp of Dick drilling into the center of a truffle distracted him. Dick was still talking, but Wally had checked out, unconsciously leaning into the press of Dick’s shoulder, unable to tear his eyes away from the full, firm lips currently devouring _his_ present. Somehow he didn’t mind.

“Besides, this is a different kind of first date,” Dick clarified. He didn’t add the _‘for me’_ and he didn’t explain, instead focusing on nibbling at the outer chocolate coat and enjoying the way the taste meshed with the remnants of strawberry on his tongue.

His back still felt warm from speedster heat, and if he closed his eyes he could still feel Wally breathing down his neck.

…Which could be because that was almost exactly what he was doing. Wally was sitting closer than was strictly necessary, and Dick wasn’t sure why the redhead was being so… _handsy_. It wasn’t _unpleasant_ —quite the contrary, actually—but it _was_ different, and Robin needed to know _why_.

He wasn’t _testing_ anything when he subtly leaned against Wally’s shoulder, and he certainly wasn’t watching for a reaction as he licked into the neat hole he’d cut into the round chocolate casing almost obscenely, digging out the crème. Robin was just. Curious.

“We get off at the stop after the next one,” Dick said as the weight of the box plopped back into Wally’s lap.

“‘Kay,” Wally replied, feeling the most ridiculous pang of regret - how stupid was it that he almost didn’t want to leave the subway?

He focused on the squish of a buttercream in his mouth and looped his free arm over the back of Dick’s seat, his far thumb just catching the ends of Dick’s hair at his neckline. Just barely brushing his thumb back and forth, Wally scooted in as Dick leaned closer, and relaxed in comfortable silence until the stop after next.

The sun filtered low between the buildings as Dick and Wally jogged up the stairs out of the subway, pressing a little closer against each other than even the thick throng of passersby required. When Dick took Wally’s hand to navigate across the crowd and over the next block, Wally laced his fingers with his and let Dick flow through the crowd like water through oil, following in his wake.

As they rounded the corner though, Dick stiffened and slowed, staring intently ahead, eventually dropping Wally’s hand.

Wally frowned, “Uh, is something the matter?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally go to New York for a date but find trouble instead.

Dick was already reaching for his pocket, pulling out the shades he always kept with him even when he wasn’t planning on using them, and the handkerchief Alfred had taught him to carry at all times.

“Trouble,” he nodded ahead, pushing the glasses onto his nose and the square of cloth into Wally’s hand.

A little further down the sidewalk walked a pair of men— _large, strong, movements untrained but **practiced**_ —quite inconspicuously following a family of four— _father: tall, fit but unused to physical labor; mother: alert and already aware; older daughter: age uncertain, probably a teenager; younger son: almost certainly prepubescent_ —backed up by two other men walking ahead of the civilians and a freaking car slowly driving right next to them.

It was a well-known tactic for tag-team, big city mugging. Any Gothamite could see it, but this area of Manhattan was probably… safer.

Dick saw the precise moment when the entire family realized that they were in some serious trouble. They walked faster, but the two guys in front of them weren’t about to let them past, and the car blocked their way across the street. With no police cars in the vicinity, those people were in trouble. Dick wasn’t sure these guys wouldn’t kidnap the kids; he couldn’t see if the mom was wearing expensive jewelry, but they were certainly well-dressed.

“I’ll take the rooftops.” Glancing to the side, Dick regarded the church they were passing. It wouldn’t be his first choice to climb and then jump off of, but it would have to do. “You cover the car. They’re gonna push those people into an alley soon—probably the one just ahead, or somewhere down this street—I’ll drop down on them from above then.”

He glanced at the car, drawing his utility belt from within his jacket. To anyone else it would just look like a fancy belt that he was buckling across his chest, and Wally was so used to him pulling the thing out of random places on his person that he didn’t even blink. “The driver’s yours. The moment the car stops, take care of him and mess up the car somehow. They don’t need an escape vehicle. I doubt the driver’s carrying a gun. That would be… the guy on the left back, and… probably one of the two up front as well; can’t really tell. They’re all definitely carrying some sort of concealed weapon.”

It wasn’t his city, but they couldn’t just stand and watch a family get mugged when there was something they could do about it.

“Keep walking for now. And watch your back, KF.” Robin slipped through the gates of the church and disappeared around it.

Robin ducked out of the corner of his eye before Wally had time to turn his head: _he hated it when he did that_. But the swell of adrenaline was already washing over him, _hands out, balls of his feet, quiet, quick_.

Other passersby had dried up; Wally could barely make out the thin black slit of an alley two blocks up between two worn down brick buildings. He had two blocks to catch up, and he barely picked up his pace to avoid their attention. But they were already getting focused on the family, and when he’d gotten to one block, they had corralled the four victims like sheep into a pen.

Wrapping the handkerchief around his face, he took off.

_Oh, this was going to suck_.  Robin stared up at the tall spires of the church, feeling the phantom pulse of discomfort already worming its way up his side. Maybe if he grappled himself up with his left hand the stitches would hold, but Dick was quite certain that he didn’t want to risk Alfred’s wrath because of a bunch of small-time goons that he should be able to handle without further injuring himself.

Scaling the walls it was.

It was a much slower and process and not at all painless, but Dick had been climbing everything taller than him before he could walk, and Robin didn’t always have his equipment on hand after Batman grounded him and he was forced to sneak out. There were always handholds and he didn’t necessarily need footholds, so it went almost as fast as walking. By the time he’d made it high enough to aim a line launcher at the building next to the church, he estimated that the family couldn’t be more than three feet from the target point. Letting his arms and legs evenly distribute his weight, Robin ziplined across the distance and prayed no one was looking out of their window.

“This is why we work at night, Robin,” he muttered to himself.

Then it was just a matter of dropping onto flat concrete and sprinting across the roof— _adrenaline building in his body this was just a warm-up_ —taking the short space between buildings with the kind of leap that continued to force Artemis and Roy to hesitate first.

He made it just in time to see a gun being pointed at the father’s face and a knife brandished towards the daughter, and _oh_ , this was a _kidnapping_.

Robin silently climbed down the fire escape, sparing half a glance towards the car to see—nothing, really; Kid Flash was either not there yet or moving too fast—but he could trust Wally to take care of that. Dick focused on the civilians.

A reasonable height above ground now, the rest of it was _easy_.

Eliminate the largest threat first.

It was still really frustrating to Wally that he wasn’t more precise, and he had to skid to quarter speed to access the van - pulling the driver out on the driver’s side and taking care of him would be too conspicuous, going in the passenger side gave him limited space and the windows and windshield weren’t exactly a private environment. _The back_.

He carefully navigated the handle on the doors to the back of the van: just as he’d suspected, they were unlocked for easy access during the getaway. He slowed all the way to very silently crack open the door of the van. If the other muggers looked his way they could probably see him, but they wouldn’t have time to stop him before he knocked out the driver.

… unless there was a grate between the back seats and the front. Which there was, as if they wanted to prevent people seated in the rear of the vehicle to be able to get to the driver. Just to his right he spotted some rope and other hankies, already rolled into gags. They were going to _kidnap_ these people.

_ Plan B: Disable the car with the driver inside. Preferably before he noticed. Okay. _

The engine was running: _guaranteed burns, last resort_. Screwing with fuel line or brakes: _too dangerous, crash or fire or worse_. Siphoning gas: _too slow, possible fire_.

Tires.

_I wonder how sharp the walnuts in these chocolates are_. Wally was on the edge of panic when he spotted a tire kit just inside the door with a lug wrench easily accessible; he slid one hand in quietly, carefully and slipped it out.

He could undo the tires: _figure out a jack later_. He had to do _something_. Wally dropped into hyperspeed and worked the hubcap off the first inside tire, deftly unscrewing the the nuts in a thick blur.

“How come no one ever bothers to clear the airspace?” Robin dropped feet-first onto the shoulders of the guy waving the gun around like it was a freaking flag, clamping his thighs sideways around the man’s head, pressing over his mouth and nose and letting him take the brunt of the fall.

"The bigger they are~” he sang with a cackle as the gun went sliding across the alley. “Anyway, as I was saying. Most of our kind comes from above, you know.”

And that was the sound of a blade swiping through the air. Robin ducked without looking, completely ignoring his captive’s efforts to breathe and/or throw him off as he grabbed the knife-holder’s wrist—“If you could get two guns why couldn’t you get four?”—pulling him straight in for a fist to the face— _ouch_ —that would probably have knocked him out had Dick’s legs not been folded underneath him and provided enough leverage.

A second punch did the trick.

Below him, the suffocating man’s efforts had gone from desperate struggles to weak flailing, and he stilled just as goon number three charged Robin. Which would have been perfect, but then—

Finishing up the second tire near the front, Wally glanced around see if anyone had spotted them, but a glint behind him caught his eye.

_Another gun_.

One goon was already on the ground and the other Dick was taking out, but a third had a .45 coming out of his pocket as he aimed for Dick.

Wally let the the lug wrench rattle to the floor as he dashed toward the alley.

Dick heard it.

_Click_ went the safety of the other gun.

The world almost froze as Wally watched the thug’s thumb pull down on the safety; he could see the muscles twitch individually in sequence as the his index finger hovered over the trigger. Wally barely even registered the punch he himself threw until real time _just_ caught up and the gun skittered down the alleyway.

Robin vaulted off the newly-unconscious goon number one to use goon number three as cover, but there was already someone there, _quickquickquick_ and Robin knew the sound of a body moving at superspeed _anywhere_.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Dick told goon number three rather mournfully—the fight was already over and he didn’t even get to do a backflip for the crowd!—then roundhouse kicked him in the face. “Now it’s just me.”

From the sounds in the alley behind him, Dick had already gotten the drop on the four thugs, and he tried to keep one ear on the scuffle behind him: a gun dropped to the ground and skidded across the pavement; an oof and a muffled scream.

…Was that the sound of a car driving off?

The squeal of the wheels behind Wally meant that the driver had slammed on the gas and was getting the hell out of dodge.

_Shit_.

Wally was back around the corner after the van which had already made it halfway down the block, but it wasn’t going to make it much further.

The loosened wheels were already wriggling wildly on their axes like squirming fish on a line. As they each escaped and took off down the sidewalk, the van listed to the right, sparks flying as it fell after them into a nearby brick building.

Well, not ideal. But no one was hurt.

And, in fact, the driver lived to swear another day, climbing out of the upturned van on the building side with a scream of creative curses that Wally would have save for later.

Learn something new everyday.

Regardless, Wally caught the driver by the back of the neck and gave him a good solid punch before stuffing him back into the sad little van. As he popped around to the back to grab some of the rope to tie him up, he plucked one of the handkerchiefs the kidnappers had prepped as gags.

_Souvenir!_

_Need my own, anyway_ , he thought while he headed back to the alley to return the one that belonged to Dick.

_Thrum-thrum-thrum_ . Dick's heart sang in his ears.

"You guys alright?”

To their credit, none of the victims had run the moment the last kidnapper/mugger was down, and Dick was occupied with frisking the unmoving bodies one by one, then dragging them into a sizable pile. They simply stood and watched as Robin pulled surgical gloves from his utility belt to ensure he didn’t leave prints on the zip ties he locked around the men’s hands and legs and across their chests, wary of using the standard Batcuffs so far outside his usual jurisdiction. The little boy cried softly and his mother soothed him, the father staring at him like he was in shock. Highly probable, considering he’d had a gun aimed for his head only moments ago.

_Fucking adrenaline_.

Robin went to put the scattered weapons in an evidence bag before someone came up with the brilliant idea of picking them up and, god forbid, using them, and paused, watching two tires roll leisurely down the street outside the alley. Aaaand that was the sound of a car crashing into something big and unyielding.

…Well. No one could say Wally wasn’t creative.

“The police are on their way.” Automated calls to the nearest police station were a blessing. Dick gave the traumatized family his best everything’s-going-to-be-just-fine smile, enunciating carefully. “You’re going to have to give a statement when they arrive, okay? So don’t leave. These guys?” he nudged goon number one with his foot. “They’re not going anywhere, they can’t hurt you, and they’re going away for a long time. I’m going to put this bag right here—” Evidence bag went at the corner of the alley, well out of reach of everyone around. “—and you just remember to tell the police that it’s here. Can you do that?”

Nothing.

New York had a lot of weird things going for it, but unless Stark counted, the people weren’t used to a hero dropping out of nowhere to help. Every Gothamite knew the proceedings from here on out, and Dick was pretty sure that even though Central was almost the exact opposite of Gotham, they knew how this worked, too. People in New York, though… they had a whole different sense of self-preservation. For all he knew, the story was going to come out on tomorrow’s paper painting them as the bad buys.

_Jitters. Great_.

With a whoosh Wally was back, flanking Robin like they were on the field on a mission, which, technically, Dick supposed they were. Actually, there was no way they wouldn’t know he was Kid Flash. Robin made a mental note to check the newspapers tomorrow for speculations on why Kid Flash would be in Manhattan.

Dick wrapped long fingers around Wally’s wrist, tugging gently. “Stay put, talk to the cops, keep the story straight, and take care.”

_Runclimbfly **something**_.

They’d barely set a foot out of the alley when the rushed words called after them.

“Thank you.”

Robin grinned, bright and wide at the girl he helped save, and then they were jogging past the group of people milling at the crashed car, hurrying out of sight until Dick could tuck himself onto Wally’s back mid-run.

_Something_. He needed to do something before he _exploded_.

“Get us away from here.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alleyways are romantic, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you need to know is that in this universe, Dick spent some time in the court system before Bruce could adopt him and endured some abuse there.

“Get us away from here.”

Wally didn’t need to be told twice: he was practically vibrating in place as he let Dick climb on. It felt  _great._

School had kept him farther away from crime fighting than he’d thought it would, and returning to it was a bigger rush than he remembered, like a double espresso after weeks of herbal tea. He was buzzing, flying past buildings, ducking through a maze of alleys and back driveways so they’d be hard to follow, feet barely touching with ground with elation. 

He finally skidded to a stop in an alley several blocks away, panting and laughing, hands on knees as Dick climbed off. 

"Woo! Did you see that  _van_? Oh man, that was the greatest idea  _ever._ " Tugging Dick’s handkerchief down, his grin spread wide across his face as he looked up at his friend.

Dick, too, was breathless, smiling, white teeth bright in the dark alley, hair plastered to his forehead, a tiny drop of sweat trickling down over his hot flushed cheeks, bursting with triumph and —

— he was never as beautiful as he was after a fight.

Dick opened his mouth to say something, but before he knew it, Wally was sucking the hot, sweet pink lips beneath the bright blue eyes he  _knew_  were sparkling beneath dark sunglasses, and he let out a soft “ _oof_ " as they hit the alley wall, hands pinning Dick’s wrists up and out, his full weight against him, teeth biting at DIck’s throbbing pulse point. He tasted sweet and savory and like  _exhilaration._

Wally couldn’t remember the rules; Dick's history; he could barely remember his own  _name. Need_ washed over him,  and he slipped a thigh tight between Dick’s legs,  a desire to _share_  with Dick, this  _high_ , to  _show_ him this feeling, to get down on his  _knees_ , the grit of the asphalt biting through his jeans, to  _hear_  Dick, until Dick’s fingers went _tight_ in Wally’s hair and— 

 _Oh god_. Wally dropped Dick’s wrists and backed off, shame pulsing to his cheeks. He’d just pinned Dick against the wall and was about to force himself on him. 

They weren’t even supposed to kiss. 

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to want to—no— _need_  to give Dick a blowjob. He’d always known it would be something he’d do, and probably eventually enjoy, but the fact that he’d been practically  _desperate_  to do it, to taste him, to feel him on his tongue …

Well. Wally couldn’t deny having an oral fixation. But. 

And who knew if Dick was even comfortable with that?

He leaned over, panting hands braced on his knees, turning away from his boyfriend in embarrassment. “S-sorry,” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to—for trapping you.”

Glasses askew, Dick stared at his best friend in absolute disbelief for the moment it took for his brain to get back online enough for him to make sense of the words, and then he was just.

 _Annoyed_.

“I’m not a freaking  _china doll_ , Wally,” his voice came out harsher than intended, but  _thoughts_  were too difficult to formulate. His body didn’t want him to  _think_  it wanted to  _move_  and Dick didn’t want to fight  _again_ they hadn’t spoken in a two  _weeks_  because of that stupid day Wally decided to get the tattoo— _what does it look like now_  he didn’t even know—he couldn’t—he  _wouldn’t_  go through that again.

 ** _Move_** , every instinct screamed at him, and Wally should have seen it coming, seen the hand that reached for his shoulder and the arm coming up to press against his throat as Dick pivoted on spot, threw his entire weight into  _slamming_ Wally against the wall, and if his head hit something hard, it was really his own fault. Sunglasses clattered to the ground, but Robin had other things to attend to.

_You don’t get to look away from me._

“If you didn’t like that, maybe you’ll prefer this,” he tilted his head minutely, indicating their reversed position, eyes glittering in the near-dark of twilight. There was no one around, Wally had made the first move, and Dick was  _done_  letting him set the terms. Wally’s hands were free, so if didn’t want to do  _any_ thing, he could  _use them_. He could push Dick off, and Dick would  _allow_  it, but he wasn’t going to put up with this treatment any longer.

He was Robin. He was a  _survivor_. He wasn’t made of  _glass_ , and if Wally couldn’t see that on his own, Dick would  _make him_.

Anger. That was  _anger_  simmering in his veins, the flashflood temper he’d never learned to control and almost always came to regret.

So Dick poured the rage into his body, poured it into the kiss that was teeth and tongue and  _force_ , into the fingers gripping Wally’s hip hard enough to leave bruises through his jeans that would fade before they had time to settle, into the thigh shoved between long legs and rubbing up unforgivingly because this was suddenly a game of chicken, and Dick was done losing.

 _Oh **god**_.

Wally arched helplessly against Dick, hands scrabbling for purchase against the wall, hips rolling over his thigh, and the pressure at Dick’s fingers ran straight to his cock,  _electric_. 

If he wasn’t hard before, he was so hard it hurt now. A soft moan escaped him — _pleaseyes_  — when Dick broke the kiss to nip down his jaw, demanding better access to his neck, and the back of Wally’s head hit the bricks behind him in compliance. 

Dick was already tugging on the hem of Wally’s sweater, rucking it up, hot, calloused palms massaging over Wally’s abs in rhythm with the sucking kisses over his neck, and Wally’s hips matched it, pulse for pulse.

When Dick didn’t even pause—relief, want,  _need_  overwhelmed Wally, and he hadn’t even known how worried he was that this wouldn’t work, that Dick wouldn’t actually  _want_  this, want to touch him like this, that he could give Dick something that wouldn’t just remind him of the past.  

He searched blindly for access to that stupid asymmetrical zipper on Dick’s jacket — _high fashion was **useless**_  — fingers roving over Dick’s chest, to his collar, one hand catching his hair and  _pulling_ , and Dick’s lips sucked away from his neck with a soft _pop_ , and he captured his mouth with his own almost frantically, his free hand sliding over his stupid black skinny jeans to cup his ass, pressing Dick tight against him, and  _god that coat shouldn’t be there._

When he let go of Dick’s head, the black hair fell out of his line of sight as Dick ducked down to Wally’s chest, exposed to the cool night air, hot, wet tongue tracing paths paths that burned over it, capturing a nipple with a sharp snap —  ** _AH_**  — making Wally’s lower half stutter against him, a light vibration radiating from his core. 

He finally found the zipper, tugging clumsily at it, trying to find the angle, eventually fisting Dick’s hair again in frustration. Dick’s head fell back to look at him, with a moan, lips parted and glistening in the evening light, pupils blown so wide Wally could barely make out his favorite shade of blue. 

It sent lightning down his spine.

His knees almost gave away beneath him as he wrapped one arm around Dick to get the leverage he needed to open his jacket, mouthing fiercely down his neck. Dick wound his hands tightly into Wally’s hair so hard it hurt while Wally’s hands finally,  _finally_  ran over Dick’s sides and to the center, maybe popping a button or two off trying to get his dress shirt open— _open for **me**_  —and clutching at him till his thumb reached tape—Dick’s injury from the other day— _but he wasn’t complaining so it must be okay—_ but then something thick and wet and warm flowed over his palm and snapped Wally out of his ferver. 

Pushing Dick away gently with one hand, carefully taking the other out of his jacket, he stared at his palm, coated with blood.

"Dick, you’re bleeding?"

“I… what?” Dick blinked, blood pounding in his ears and heart in his throat, hips still trying to snap back against Wally’s,  _aching_  from the sudden absence of contact. He followed Wally’s eyes down to his palm, and it took another second for him to realize that he felt… stickier than he should.

“Oh, no.”

Wally helped him struggle out of his jacket; the white shirt underneath was stained a dark red, and Dick couldn’t help the slightly hysteric woe of realizing that it was totally ruined.

“Oh no oh no oh no Alfred’s going to  _murder_ me.”

It didn’t matter that he was the only protector of Gotham at the moment, what did matter was that Alfred had  _warned_  him not to tear the stitches he'd gotten in the knife fight the other day—the night he'd drunk texted Wally—and Dick had  _tried_ —he hadn’t even used his grapple yet—but clearly he hadn’t succeeded. There were going to be severe repercussions when the man found out.

At least  _that_  thought made his jeans a little looser—he was starting to _chafe_. Of all the days to forget his boxers…

Carefully, Dick peeled away the wad of soaked padding, removing his shirt to wipe the excess blood away so he could take a proper look.

“Okay,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. The stitches are fine.” Wally didn’t have to zoom him home and ruin the whole date. They were already late for dinner reservations. “Just needs redressing.” It was probably the line launcher that strained his side and cracked the clotting and made the bleeding start over, but it would die down soon. Robin hadn’t even noticed through the haze of adrenaline and arousal.

Using the shirt to keep pressure on the wound, Dick grabbed Wally’s wrist and wiped off his bloodied hand on the once-white material. “I think we passed a CVS couple streets down, around the corner.” Even if they hadn’t, Wally would find one somewhere. And hopefully not lose  _him_  in the process, seeing as there was no way Dick could just waltz into a pharmacy, shirtless and bloody and with a Gothamite’s explanation for why he wasn’t in the ER instead. “Could you go grab some peroxide, bandages and tape? I’ll wait he—” He paused. Standing around, injured, in an alley on an empty street after 8 pm was probably not the best idea.

“Up there.” Robin pointed to the roof of the building they were next to. “I’ll wait up there.”

Wally nodded tersely and struggled to keep to a jog looking for the CVS; he sorta remembered it himself and hung a left when he exited the alley. It wasn’t a disaster, but surely it was starting to hurt by now, and man, he really did not want to go home. 

Well, not unless he could convince Dick to stay. 

But that probably wouldn’t be advisable in Dick’s condition, so stalling in New York for as long as he could was his best option. Selfish, maybe, but Dick would let him know if he needed to leave. Besides, he was starving.

It wasn’t the CVS he remembered, when he stopped under a flickering sign, but it would do. The aisles were unusually crowded, laid out in quirky directions and crammed into the tiny corner story unlike the roomy convenience stores he was used to in Central. There was no where like New York. The bandages and peroxide were in the back, along with some tape. He pulled the largest box of bandages he could find—he hadn’t really gotten a good look at how large the injury was, and cotton gauze to apply the disinfectant. 

On his way out he passed a row of t-shirts. Dick’s shirt was trashed, but at least it saved Alfred the pain of sewing those buttons on. He wasn’t even sure where they landed, or if they would  _want_  to recover them if they found them. He shuddered, thinking about the floor of the alley. Alright. The first one he saw in Dick’s size was covered in neon paint splatters over “New York New York” but screw it. He jogged out the door before the cash register finished printing out his receipt. 

On the roof, Dick had his legs dangling over the edge, his coat over his shoulders. Wally dropped the bag behind him and leaned over; the shirt—already ruined—was in a ball against the wound to apply pressure and soak up blood. 

"Hey," he said softly, and Dick turned with a grin and a grimace, hissing a little as Wally lifted his arms to get a look. "Does it hurt much?" 

Dick shook his head, and Wally carefully peeled away the blood soaked tape, tossing it in a pile behind them. The bleeding had already slowed, and Dick barely winced as the peroxide washed away the dried blood caking the wound. 

Wally actually really liked this. He was usually the one being bandaged and bent back into shape after a fight; Dick was more careful, more graceful, more refined and  _precise._ Wally was a bowling ball and usually his bones were the pins as much as the bad guys. 

"Therrrre we go." Leaning back on his heels to examine his handiwork. "Lookin good, hot stuff,"  he said as he dug the ugliest shirt he could have found and tossed it at Dick’s head. 

“I dunno, dude,” he caught the shirt with ease, spreading it open as cautiously as if it were about to catch on fire. “I think it’ll suit you better. Goes with the hair, y’know?”

But he didn’t actually complain, putting his coat aside and slipping his arms through the sleeves and flapping them at Wally until the redhead rolled his eyes and stepped closer to push the neckline over his head. Dick promptly grabbed him around the waist and tugged him into his lap, still precariously balanced on the railing, legs now dangling over the safer side. His side throbbed in protest, but Dick was too busy burrowing his face into Wally’s shoulder to care. He breathed in the smell of cloth and wind, blindly mouthing up Wally’s neck to his lips. The minutes—and admittedly fear of Alfred—had washed away the arousal, and with the adrenaline burned out as well, he was left a little too content to move.

So he kissed Wally slowly, one hand hooked in his jeans and the other pushing under the sweater, wondering if he’d be able to feel the tattoo. He couldn’t, of course; it was just smooth warm skin, but Dick palmed over it anyway, feeling the tiny shivers traveling along Wally’s spine.

“Wanna go home—” he murmured into Wally’s mouth. “—and throw you on my bed—” Kisses along his jaw and up to his ear. “—and finish what we started.” Sucked the earlobe between his teeth and  _tugged_.

Then he stopped, pulling away enough to look Wally in the eye.

“But I also want to do this  _right_. So if you didn’t mind the disruption too much, Mr. West, maybe you’d like to resume our  _date_.” Richard’s lips tugged up in a helpless smile as he batted his eyelashes at his boyfriend. “I doubt your stomach would mind.”

As Dick’s lips traced over the edge of his jaw, Wally didn’t care one  _iota_  that his stomach was growling right now, that he was  _famished_. He groaned inwardly.  _Augh don’t do this to meeeee._ Dick’s first suggestion was by far the more enticing one.

But if Dick wanted dinner, they’d get dinner. 

"Guess the kissing rule’s gone out the window," he said tartly, biting back a whine as he slid next to Dick, legs dangling over the opposite side of the roof so that he could face hom. He cupped his chin and gently kissed him in kind, languidly. "So where are we headed?" he murmured as he traced the outline of Dick’s ear with his thumb. 

“You broke it first, Kid Lasciviousness,” Dick scowled at him with no real malice, hopping off his perch. “And I was going to make this all traditional, too.”

Not for himself, of course. At the risk of sounding like a bigger sap than he already did, Dick couldn’t care less about what they did and how as long as they were… together. Being brought up first in a circus and then as a billionaire’s adopted kid didn’t exactly bolster a  _traditional_  idea of ‘tradition’, but good to know that Wally was even less aware of it than him.

Wally stomach protested loud enough that Dick could probably hear it this time, and Wally broke away with another groan, swinging his legs back over the safer edge of the roof. 

"I hope you’re buying," he said, punching Dick lightly on the shoulder. "I could put Costco out of business right now." 

 _Lots of food._  Wally stood, stretching a little.  _And preferably quick service._

Slipping his arms through his jacket, Dick paused to zip it up before flipping over the roof and down the fire escape, Wally zooming past him and waiting for him at the bottom with his hands on his hips where Dick’s had been barely half an hour ago and an infuriating grin on his stupidly kissable face. Robin picked up the shades still lying on the ground, and whacked him on the back of his head, for posterity’s sake.

Or something like that.

“Barbeque,” Dick said, grabbing Wally’s fingers and starting to walk without preamble. He’d felt sorry enough for himself at their last outing to last a good few months; he wasn’t about to overthink this now. Holding his best friend’s hand felt  _normal_ , and he’d always been better at following his instincts than overthinking. “Couple blocks away. March, West.”

Thankfully, Wally hadn’t diverted from their route—it was probably a bad sign that he didn’t use civilian terms even in his thoughts—when he sped them away, and the half hour walk to Blue Smoke was now a five minute stroll. Dick could  _smell_  the ribs as he pulled the door open, wrapping an arm around Wally and giving him a quick squeeze before dropping it.

The waitress led them to a booth at the far end the restaurant, relatively private and certainly a little quieter than the rambunctious front. Dick raised an eyebrow at Wally over the beverages menu as she told them to take their time to decide and disappeared.

“Ready to put this place out of business?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally put the Blue Smoke BBQ joint out of business; or, Adventures In Booze

Wally popped open his menu and pulled a toothpick from the back end of the table—he needed something to chew on to take the edge off. 

"By the way," he said with a grin, "That kiss? We were on a  _mission_  at the time, not a  _date_. So it didn’t count. Just so you know.”

Whatever Dick’s witty retort, it was cut off by the waitress arriving with water and bread. Wally leaned back and sent her a beaming smile, skillfully shifting the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other without hands in a rather misguided attempt to look cool. She raised an eyebrow and sort of giggled back—whether because he was actually handsome enough to still impress her or because he was ridiculous it wasn’t clear. 

"You two ready?"

"I was  _born_  ready,” Wally said in a sultry voice, running one finger down the menu and leaning in toward her, occasionally glancing up at her slyly under thick red eyelashes. “Let’s start with, uhm … six pieces of St. Louis Toasted Ravioli, that’s a  _favorite_  of mine, an order of Smoked Black Pepper Sausage, three Blue Smoke burgers, medium rare, maybe some Chicken Fried Steak, a Rib Sampler for two, some Applewood-Smoked Chicken, Creekstone Farms Texas Beef Brisket, uhm I guess the Iceberg Wedge Salad has enough bacon in it to be worth it… uh … the Seared Gulf shrimp, and … seven oysters, please,” he said, directing that last one straight at Dick.

"And a coke." 

"A-alright, let me get this in," the pert brunette said as she started to walk away, still struggling to get it all down. 

"Oh, no, wait, darlin’," Wally turned back to the waitress, dropping into a Missouri accent and lightly catching her apron before she got too far. "He hasn’t ordered yet.”

Dick shot Wally a flat look. “Two Ithaca White Golds, please. That’s all.”

"Okay," she tilted her head. "Can I see some ID?"

Wally stared at Dick with his mouth agape for  _just_  a split second as he watched Dick dig out his wallet innocently, because  _Wally totally didn’t have a fake ID on him._ Dick didn’t even look him in the eye as the redhead pulled himself together and, reluctantly, his wallet out of his jeans. And there it was: _Wally West, 22 years old, citizen of Central City_.

His eyes narrowed in his boyfriend’s direction:  _Little pickpocket_. 

 _Not bad recovery_ , Dick asserted with the most innocent of smiles as the waitress inspected their IDs with a suspicious glance at him—she could actually run them and find a history of their lives if she so chose; Robin had been very thorough in putting together their alternate biographies—and, finding them to her satisfaction, handed them back.

“I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute,” she said. Dick flashed her a quick smile in thanks, hoping to make up for his best friend’s truly _atrocious_  attempts at flirting. Robin waited until the woman was out of earshot before kicking Wally under the table—hard.

“Must you embarrass me with your  _irrepressible_  need to hit on every humanoid shape in the room,  _darlin’?_ ” he mimicked the accent perfectly—Wally should really pull it out more often—but the grin he was completely failing to hide took the sting out of his words. “And dude, if you’re calling a barely second-rate kidnapping attempt a  _mission_ , you must be pretty bored up in Stanford.”

Wally shrugged. _Well. Yeah, actually._  

“There’s not a lot Kid Flash can do there, really. If he shows up in East Palo Alto, it’s a short list of kids who could be Kid Flash from Central Central. And I think the other three are girls.” He pulled apart a bread roll and stuffed it in his mouth gracelessly. “It’ss twoo bad. Palo Alto is full of the super rich, but just across the train tracks—almost literally—is a city that could use some help. Not fair.” Wally grinned through another bite. “And I am trying to graduate this decade, so … Central gets less help than I’d like, too.” 

It  _was_  boring.

Their waitress, Shelly, arrived, already looking harried, with three of the appetizers and their beers, and the table was already starting to crowd. Wally, for his part, didn’t dig in right away, hanging back until the moment that she popped off the cap to his White Gold and turned to Dick to do the same—then he chugged it as fast as he could. 

When she turned back less than two seconds later, his face was flushed red with the sudden inebriation of drinking $18 dollars of an extra-large bottle of beer on an empty stomach in milliseconds, and he hardly held back a comical _hic_ , batting his eyes at her briefly before turning his full, doe-eyed gaze at Dick in barely disguised, sickly sweet adoration. 

He plucked a piece of shrimp from the table and popped it in his mouth, letting his head loll lopsidedly as he chewed.

"Hey," he tried not to slur. 

Dick stared.

Shelly stared.

Wally didn’t even  _notice_  her staring, and Dick squished the sudden urge to  _coo_  at the ridiculousness that was his boyfriend.

“I think we’ll take another beer,” he told the flabbergasted waitress, who stood stock-still for another full moment before the words registered and she nodded, grabbing the empty bottle on her way back.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Dick reached to cup Wally’s cheek and push his head upright, then forgot to retrieve his hand. “You’re lucky you didn’t throw up, idiot.”

 _Stop looking at me like that_. It made his chest feel weird and tight and Dick had no clue what he was supposed to with that other than suffocate and  _shit_  Wally was a pretty drunk. …Maybe he should keep his opinions to himself, considering what it  _took_ for a speedster to get drunk.

Wally had done this before with mixed results—chugged as much alcohol as he could as quickly as he could—but today was the first time he’d tried it while starving after an intense mission when he was already feeling high for other reasons, and it was working like gangbusters. It felt great. It wasn’t going to last long, but it felt great.

Shelly returned with their massive order, piled high on a cart because there was no way one table could fit it all, and another bottle that she set down with a curious glance at the arm Dick was quickly recovering. It was pointless, though. Even if she hadn’t seen them while walking over, the way Wally was looking at him—emphasis on the  _was_ , because the arrival of food distracted the redhead immediately—gave everything away. The woman gave Dick a close-lipped smile as his best friend watched the cart with… pretty much the same eyes he’d given Dick earlier in the alley.

That wasn’t disturbing at all.

The cart ended up somewhat of a fire hazard, blocking their exit from the booth, but neither of them particularly cared, and Shelly only stopped long enough to ask if they needed anything else. By the time she was gone again, Dick could swear Wally was drooling.

Wally registered slight regret at the chill of Dick’s withdrawn hand, but the empty space in his chest was quickly filled with,  ** _hell yeah_** ,  _the ribs on his plate_. The pile of food listed to one side as he alternately ate with his right hand and retrieved more with his left, always stopping for an inefficient glance at Dick between bites, who was still sitting with the weirdest look of awe on his face, just barely touching what little food he had on his plate. 

Wally frowned.  _Was Dick being **too**  still? Had he dropped into hyperspeed without realizing it? _He let the fork in his hand fall to the table as an experiment; it seemed to fall normally. 

"Dude," he whispered. "You haven’t touched your food." Wally raised an eyebrow in an attempt to be sexy that dissolved into a giggle. "Can I offer shome assishtance?”

Before Dick could even answer, Wally was ducking under the table and squirming out on Dick’s side, trying not to knee him in the crotch.

"Shit, I’m stuck," he pouted, one shoulder and his head sticking out from beneath the table and thank god it would be another five minutes before the buzz wore off and the embarrassment set in. "I can’t go around," he offered in pointless explanation, nodding toward the cart blocking the booth.

Dick rolled his eyes and hooked a hand under Wally’s elbow, and Wally wiggled in beside him on the seat, grinning broadly and throwing his near arm over Dick’s shoulders. He let his head rest on Dick’s jacket for a minute before gathering himself together and scooping up an oyster in a half shell. 

The alcohol was already burning off, but he’d wanted to do this anyway. 

"Oyster?" he offered. 

Dick couldn’t begrudge the oyster. Food was the only way Wally knew to be seductive, after all, and offering to share was… Okay so Dick might be laughing a little, but he still slipped an arm around Wally’s waist and opened his mouth, not particularly caring who got cavities from watching them, including himself. It was the first time in months that he’d had a full appetite; he could afford to be spoiled.

A mouthful of oyster probably didn’t look very good, but Wally was inebriated anyway, so Dick dropped his head onto his best friend’s shoulder with a moan of pleasure, leaning fully into him and savoring the bite.

“Shrimp!” he chirped as ‘next!’ and Wally obediently held one up to his mouth. The fact that his lips closed around Wally’s fingers as well as the shrimp was… an accident.

Thank god they got the corner booth. They could probably get away with a good makeout session here—Robin noted the long tablecloths and the cart mostly blocking them from sight and changed the ‘makeout’ to ‘blowjob’—so they should probably come back in a few weeks. Barbeque was, as Wally was proving, not exactly romantic, but a good BJ could make anything romantic. Discretion was a wonderful thing. Dick’s hand was halfway up the back of Wally’s sweater and no one was any wiser.

Lechery aside, though. Dick definitely wouldn’t mind another date in the future.

“Hey,” he started curiously, dipping the tips of his fingers just past the hem of Wally’s jeans. A week after getting it, he was pretty sure the tattoo was perfect, but a week from now it would probably be gone. It was such a pity he didn’t get to see it. “It healed right, yeah? No complications?”

Wally clapped his hands together in realization: “Yeah! It stopped bleeding like the day before yesterday, but I couldn’t take good pictures of it to show you!” 

The slight sloppiness to his movements and exuberance as he turned away to start pulling his shirt up his back—and maybe even accidentally off—betrayed his remnant intoxication, and when Dick grabbed at the hem of his shirt hovering around his shoulder blades, he glanced back meekly. 

“Whoa there, handsome,” Dick smiled indulgently, pulling the redhead’s shirt back down, though not before taking a long look at the gorgeous colors spreading across the sparsely freckled skin. “Lovely as that looks, let’s not get ourselves kicked out before we finish eating. I’d like to come back here someday, you know.”

 _I owe you an under-table blowjob_ , he didn’t say, although he’d rather say that than admit he was already a little attached to the place of their first date.

"I—I didn’t think that would work that well," Wally admitted, nodding to the empty bottle across from him. 

“And finally we know how to get you drunk for all of ten minutes.” The spark of realization and then sheepishness in Wally’s eyes suggested he’d overestimated the time by a good five minutes or so, but hey, at least now the experiments could stop and Roy wouldn’t be complaining about them draining his alcohol supply whenever they dropped by. Dick petted Wally’s hair condescendingly, leaning over to steal a chaste kiss. “Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

Wally snorted as he settled back in next to Dick, “Yeah, I guess we found the recipe.” Still a little woozy, he shoveled in a couple more bites of chicken and even some of the salad with one hand, and picked up the beer with the other. “Maybe it’s something in the hops.”

 _Or maybe it was the fight. Or maybe it’s because I’m in **love**  with you today_.

He bit his tongue on that last one, burying himself in another helping of shrimp and another burger,occasionally feeding Dick and laughing as the buzz wore away, until all that was left was the plate of oysters in the middle of the table. 

He offered his boyfriend another one: ”You know, I wonder if the oyster thing is true. About them being aphrodisiacs.” Gulping down the last one, he pushed the plate away and stretched an arm around Dick. “So what do you want to do now?” 

“Hmm.” Dick blamed the oysters for the detour his thoughts seemed to be taking every few seconds, and honestly he might pay Black Canary a visit just because it was  _not_  okay to appreciate the complete lack of Kid Flash’s table manners. He signaled Shelly for their check. “I wanted to go see Pacific Rim, but.”

More  _people_.

They didn’t watch movies very quietly. Dick tended to whoop at all the big explosions and Wally laughed too loud, and sometimes they started dissecting action moves right in the middle of the theater, and no one would ever forget the time the whole team got thrown out because Robin and Conner started arguing about who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman and then decided that the best way to figure it out was to go against each other, right then and there.

Kaldur had looked so harassed. Robin still felt a little bad about that.

They could just watch it in Bruce Wayne’s state of the art entertainment room in the privacy of the manor, where it wouldn’t matter if Dick tackled Wally to the ground or started a tickle war in the middle of the movie. Besides, this movie was supposed to be good, and Dick was so… distracted tonight.

“We could skip it and go back to your place if you want,” he couldn’t quite keep the hopeful note out of his voice. They could head back to the manor too, but Wally’s house was empty and Dick still felt weird kissing anyone in front of Alfred. It was just.  _Alfred_. “Hang out. I can kick your ass at Skyrim.”

"Yes!" Wally said, maybe a little too eagerly, because seriously sitting in a dark room for two more hours with Dick  _right there_  would driven him insane. Romcoms lie, and movies are actually really shitty places to make out in unless it was totally empty, and these days why would you pay ten bucks a pop for the privilege of getting popcorn chucked at your head? 

"Let’s do that," he continued, gathering up his coat as the waitress cleared the table, and, as Dick left an extremely generous tip on the table along with the cash for the meal ( _how many hundreds did he have **on** him?_) he tugged Dick’s hand away and practically dragged him out the door.

Outside, he tried to slow down a little: he was a little unsure exactly what Dick meant by “hang out,” whether or not his earlier comment on the rooftop still held, because his tone now sort of said “ _just_  hang out.” Which, okay, sure. Either way, the “rim” jokes that sprang unbidden to his mind were totally inappropriate. 

Dick bought them two tickets home, and Wally fed their tickets through the turnstyle; it objected that he tried to pull the two of them through as a unit, but still they made it on time to the next train to the zeta beam.  

It was Saturday night in New York, and relatively early, so it was still standing room only, and Wally pulled Dick over into the corner of the train, leaning against the wall and letting Dick hold onto the bar to steady them. Full, happy, slow and cuddly, he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy and rested his head on his shoulder. Wally felt content, in a way he hadn’t since—well, since he couldn’t remember. Dick seemed to feel the same way, though, and they rode home in contemplative quiet, and Wally didn’t even care if nothing happened tonight—though he had to chase the occasional jitter away that it might; he was just glad to be …here. Now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you like some popsicle to go with that BJ or...?

Dick nearly fell asleep standing up, supported by Wally and hands slipping from the metal pole, dozing in a way that would have given Bruce an ulcer if he caught him. It was dangerous and stupid in such a public environment, when he wasn’t even wearing his glasses and anyone could potentially recognize him, but the big meal in his stomach and comfortable warmth pressed against his back lowered his defenses, raising his trust.

And for a few minutes, Robin dissolved into just Dick.

It was Wally who roused him back at the correct platform, slung an arm around his shoulders and directed him through the crowd as Dick rubbed his eyes and yawned and focused on not tripping over his feet, and it was also Wally who pinched him when he stood outside the subway entrance and tried to remember which way the zeta was.

Dick pushed him into oncoming traffic.

At least Wally’s resulting complaining woke him up, and they pinched each other all the way back to the zeta tube, until Wally pinched Dick’s butt and Dick stepped on his feet in revenge. The speedster only used that as an excuse to lean into him once they’d beamed into Central, feigning a limp and making Dick half-drag him to his house.

“Maybe we  _shouldn’t_  do this again,” Dick huffed, throwing Wally against his closed front door. Wally just laughed at him, finding his keys. The smell of petunias pervaded the air and Dick blinked, suddenly remembering—

“Hey, we didn’t leave the chocolates here, did we?” He could distinctly recall eating a couple on the train, but he’d forgotten about them after that. They didn’t have dessert and he wanted a raspberry truffle.

 _Oh crap_. Wally froze, wracking his brain for the last time he’d seen the chocolate. _Right._

In the gutter. Crushed by the wheels as they escaped the van. He hadn’t even had time to mourn. He sunk into himself, sheepish. “Uh,  the van ate them…?”

Dick gave him an annoyed look, brushing past Wally with a put-upon sigh, shucking off his jacket and hanging it over a chair. 

"Totally not my fault," Wally whined, digging through the freezer. Dick obviously wanted something sweet and so did he. They were out of ice cream - but they did have some popsicles behind the peas. "Want a popsicle? You like red, don’t you?”

He paused, pulling out one for himself. “Or we have uh … day old donuts. Man, I’m sorry, dude, I really didn’t think -“ 

Dick accepted the popsicle, with a slight grin and a small roll of his eyes, and headed out of the room backwards, eyes on Wally as he grabbed his hand and took them up the stairs. 

Popsicles. Of course there would be  _popsicles_.

He sat cross-legged on Wally’s bed, tearing at the packaging as his boyfriend zoomed around the room, finding controllers and setting up the game. By the time Wally had plopped down on the bed himself, Dick had drained the top part of his red popsicle white.

Now it was just plain ice. Great. He bit off a little bit, letting it melt to water on his tongue as he watched Wally fiddle with the controllers with one hand and suck at his blue popsicle with the other.

The temptation to put on a show was near-overwhelming.

“You know,” he started conversationally. Wally looked up, lips tinted blue, and Dick wanted to suck the color off them the same way he’d sucked it off his popsicle. “I’ve never actually tried this before.”

And he licked a long, slow stripe up the frozen treat, ignoring the fact that he couldn’t really feel the inside of his mouth anymore.

“Let me know if it’s working,” he encouraged, eyes closed and concentrating on giving the popsicle the best blowjob he could manage, tongue twirling and lips sucking and slurping and.

And he could  _feel_  Wally’s eyes on him.

It was no secret that Dick enjoyed showing off, but it  _was_  a surprise when he felt his own pants tighten in eagerness,and as he fluttered his lashes open to look up at his best friend, the moan that tore out of him wasn’t entirely faked.

He was the center of Wally’s attention, and he was definitely enjoying it very…  _very_ … much.

Dick hummed and leaned back on his palm, throwing his head back and pushing the entire length of the popsicle down his throat.

Wally’s heart dropped into his stomach and his own popsicle almost fell to the bed watching Dick do … that. Dick may have looked  _completely_   _ridiculous_ , but Wally really wasn’t in the right frame of mind to decide, and as Dick slowly, tortuously pulled his popsicle out of the back of his throat, looking Wally right in the eye with a really stupid smirk on his face.

That Wally wanted to kiss right off. 

Time stuttered as he reached up and pushed Dick’s popsicle out of his way with the back of his hand,  _slowly_ , slowly to  _him,_ and he was so glad right now he’d had them in his freezer because otherwise his throat would be bone dry from nerves, and -  _what did he have to be nervous about? He’d done this lots of times; he’d done much more lots of times -_ but truth be told he was  _terrified._ He hadn’t been this terrified for years and years; he couldn’t  _remember_  the last time his heart had beaten like a broken drum, pulse buzzing in his ears, his fingers trembling as he wrapped his free hand around Dick’s ribs, massaging, rubbing his thumb, tracing the bones and muscles there, as one knee slid to the other side of Dick’s lap to catch on his hip, and now Wally was kneeling over him, straddling him, eyes wide, with a look on his freckled face that was almost deer in headlights, trapped, enthralled by him and and in his thrall.

Wally felt like this moment wasn’t just  _happening_ , it was happening  _to_  him, and he was scared to take a breath and break the spell; he wanted it to stretch into forever, to etch those bright blue eyes, the twist of his smile into eternity: the way his bangs fell over his eyebrows, his hair growing into soft curls at the nape of his neck, the angle of his shoulder as he leaned back on his hand, the agonizingly slow crawl of a single red drip from the popsicle flowing over Wally’s thumb as he pushed it away from Dick’s full, neon red lips, lips screaming “kiss me.”

So he did.

Dick didn’t even see Wally move.

Between one blink and the next his supporting arm gave way as Wally _crashed_  into him and Dick’s back hit the mattress, lips on his before he could register he was being kissed, the popsicle barely held off the bed as he tried and failed to hold in the laughter bubbling out of his chest, loud and joyous and  _oh_ , there was Wally’s tongue, moving almost too fast for him to feel, so Dick invited him in, let him go at his own pace but Wally had slowed down for him, massaging warmth and feeling into his cold and slow mouth and  _waiting_ for him to catch up and Dick.

Dick tangled his fingers into Wally’s hair and arched into his touch, smile melting into  _hi_  and  _hello_  and  _did you miss me?_  and laugh morphing into a gasp that was everything short of  _fuck me_  but so much more than  _I want you_  and Wally might have understood all of it or nothing at all but his mouth— _oh god_ —his mouth was sucking down Dick’s jawthroatneck it was perfect  _he_  was perfect and  _how did Dick get so lucky?_

“Wally,” he gasped, desperate to use both his hands but one was ocupado, and Dick was about one second away from just dropping the popsicle wherever and tearing off Wally’s sweater. “The sheets.”

Like a thunderclap, real time came pouring in, flooding his senses, Dick’s laughter chiming in his ears, the cool roll of his tongue over Wally’s, and he ached, a delicious ache, like he was coming to rest after years of hard labor, every muscle alive and thrumming, finally relaxing into  _homehomehome_.

The taste of sickly sweet syrup in his mouth melted into the savory flavor of Dick’s neck, and it was probably the most delicious thing he’d ever had and  _fuck_  he was not going to be able to eat a popsicle again without getting painfully hard. Which he already was. 

The hand holding his own popsicle and Dick’s at bay was already starting to cramp from the awkward angle when Dick squirmed beneath him in frustration: “Wally, the sheets.” 

And Wally tried not to stick his popsicle into Dick’s free hand too frantically, but it’s really a close call when an  _acrobat_  almost drops it, and Wally wasn’t going to help him since he was busy peeling off his own sweater as fast as he could, all arms and elbows and squirming torso. Before his sweater even hit the ground, Wally had plucked both popsicles out of Dick’s hands in turn, and would have rucked Dick’s shirt up with his teeth if Dick wasn’t already half-way out on his own. 

A low needy whistle slipped through his teeth as Dick fell back to the bed on his elbows, shadows cast from his small bedside lamp outlining his abs, the deep grooves in the porcelain white skin, criss-crossed with scars, covered only by his latest bandage, tally marks of Dick’s foibles and victories, each one ultimately a triumph because he was  _here_ , he was  _alive_  and  _warm_  and  _his._  

He bent over to trap Dick’s still candy red lips between his teeth, gently, carefully, completely, and he tried not to grin  _too_  mischievously as he let the tip of his blueberry pop fall -  _ptah_  -against Dick’s nipple.

Dick jumped in surprise, but he would forever deny that the sound that came out of his throat was a squeak, because he definitely articulated a full “ _Jesus Christ!_ ” when Wally’s  _burning_  lips covered his nipple, and then he was laughing again—“Oh my god what are you  _doing?_ ”—as his boyfriend traced the red pop over his clavicle, down his chest, hot tongue tracing over the cool paths and making Dick shiver and buck at the same time, over and over until half the blue popsicle was gone and he was left a quivering  _mess_  on the wrinkled sheets.

“Wallyyyyyy,” he keened, because apparently he was entirely unable to shut up no matter the situation, and Wally fucking  _laughed_  at him— _you’ll wish you hadn’t_ —but that was the all the pause Robin needed to hook one leg over the redhead’s waist, lever himself up and flip them over. Settling comfortably over Wally’s denim-covered hips—and maybe grinding down a little—Dick grabbed the strawberry pop from his hand and grinned down at his boyfriend.

“My turn.”

He didn’t have Wally’s stupid overheated body, but as he bit off a large portion of the popsicle, Dick decided he didn’t need it.

Because Wally was flushed all the way from his ears down past the hem of his jeans, which, really. Redheads.

Dick kissed him, passing the fast-melting block of pop from his mouth to Wally’s, licking at it until Wally was forced to swallow around his tongue to avoid choking.  _Heh_ , said Dick’s smile as he pulled back and broke off another piece, and  _here’s to payback_  was implied in the way his mouth sank onto  _Wally’s_  nipple, twirling the cold around and over the hardened nub and  _dragging_ what was left to the opposite side,  _feeling_  Wally react to the obnoxious noises Dick made as he slurped up what he couldn’t lick off.

 _This_ , Robin did his best to convey through the third chunk he just left sitting in Wally’s bellybutton, slowly melting as he popped the final bit of red into his mouth and skimmed it over heated abs up to a freckled neck, cool fingers dancing over what his lips couldn’t reach.  _Is totally something we’re doing again._

Wally’s blueberry pop was practically falling off its stick, dripping over his hand, so Dick plucked it from his fingers and brought them up to his lips to suck clean.

Wally held his breath as Dick dragged the frightfully cold chunk of popsicle across his torso, trembling with the effort of staying still so that the sticky syrup didn’t melt off his body and onto his sheets -  _probably_  a lost cause, but arching up off the bed and into  _Dick_ , into his  _mouth,_  would  _definitely_  leave him with some explaining to do to his mom next laundry cycle.

That went out the window anyway, though, when Dick closed his mouth over the red pop pooling in his belly button, and he couldn’t help but wind his mostly sucked-clean fingers into Dick’s hair as his back came clean off the bed with a soft cry of pleasure that dissolved into a giggle because “Fuck, that  _tickles_ , dude.” 

He’d have to tell his mom he fell asleep with a half eaten popsicle or something. 

Totally worth it, because this was delicious in every  _sense_  of the word, and so  _new,_ such an electric combination of the familar -  _Dick’s smell, his weight, his rhythm_  - with the unfamiliar -  _his taste, the warmth of his tongue, his hands over my hips, my ribs, oh god his **touch**._

And he wanted  _nothing_  more right now than to feel  _all_  of him, but …

Well, among other reasons, he was a little concerned that the second Dick touched him, he’d …  _uh_  …

Wally distracted himself from that embarrassing thought by sliding his hand over Dick’s back -  _twisting muscles, soft skin_  - and dipped his fingers tentatively into the back of his jeans over his box-

… or he  _would_  have, if Dick was  _wearing_  any boxers. The thought made him buck and moan beneath him before he collected himself enough to grin and say: “I thought  _I_ was the one who was supposed to go commando.”

“Mm, I always forget,” Dick scraped his teeth over the faint scar on Wally’s stomach, the one that refused to heal, rolling his hips back into Wally’s palm, sucking in his stomach to give him more space to slide it further into his jeans. He couldn’t keep it up, though, releasing the breath with a huff and a stilted groan. “I’m just less… ah… _vocal_  about my poor memory when it comes to putting on underwear.”

That, and Wally was used to seeing him undressing only when he was changing out of Robin. Dick did his best to remember to wear briefs with his uniform; the armor  _chafed_.

His fingers caught on the edge of Wally’s pants, and the belt was halfway undone before his mind caught up; Dick forced himself to let go—it was so much harder fighting his body when he really,  _really_  didn’t want to—sitting back on his haunches and fixing Wally with the most serious gaze his flushed cheeks would allow.

“Wally, are you…” his voice was too low, too thick. Dick cleared his throat, reaching back to lay his hand over the one gripping his ass. “Are you sure you want to do this? Tonight? With me?”

Something flickered in his best friend’s eyes, and Robin had to lean down to kiss him, scramble his brain and keep the doubt away for as long as he could.

“ _I_  want to,” he murmured against Wally’s lips, warm and pliant beneath his own. Dick could just. Stay here and kiss him forever and he’d never ask for anything else because  _this_  was so much more than he ever thought he could have. “I do. But I can wait. I’ve waited a long time for you; a few more days or months won’t kill me. I need to know if  _you’re_ sure.”

Wally backed up a bit, and the look on his face said “You must be  _crazy_ ,” but what came out of his mouth was a happy laugh and “Are you kidding? Of  _course_.”

He kissed up Dick’s neck to his ear and, grinning against it, whispered, “ _I love you_.”

This… wasn’t exactly what he was supposed to do in situations like this, Dick thought as he hid a smile in Wally’s shoulder, arms wrapped so tight around the speedster it was a wonder he was still breathing, both of them still half-hard and trapped between each other because the only thing Dick could do anymore was crush Wally to himself and… make sure he was still there. Be absolutely certain that he wasn’t just imagining Wally’s hand still down the back of his pants and the tang of berries on his tongue and the salt on Wally’s skin and the way his boyfriend’s mouth shaped the words leaving a sizzling pressure in Dick’s chest that he didn’t care to relieve.

Wally didn’t seem to mind the impromptu hug, quietly rubbing his back until Dick had had his fill and letting him go when he scrambled up and away, even removing his hand so Dick could wind their fingers together.

 _Say that again_ , was almost at the tip of his tongue, but Dick caught himself at the last second, changing the topic of conversation before  he forgot and Wally swept him away as easily as a leaf in a storm, because that’s what Dick  _was_ , and he didn’t know how to be a rock instead.

“Then we need to establish something.” It was a more or less revised speech, one he’d shared with first Zatanna and then Barbara, but neither of them had known what Wally did, and Dick refused to do this until they both stood on level ground.

Robin was a lot of things, most of them weak and frail and not worth speaking of, but  _breakable_  wasn’t one that list.

“A safe word.” He watched Wally’s face. “Pretty sure you know the basic concept.” The jibe couldn’t be helped, really. “I’d actually like to get on with this at some point  _soon_ , so we can figure out something better another time, but for tonight it can be…”  _Traffic lights. Robin’s colors. Green, yellow, red_. “Stop.”

There was a little rattle in his heart that he knew only he could hear, reminding Wally of all the reasons a teenager participating in consensual, generic,  _vanilla_  sex would even  _think_  of using a safe word, why he needed be  _certain_  he was being  _offered_  before he took, but.

_I love you._

“The safe word is ‘stop’,” Dick swallowed, hands clenching reflexively around Wally’s. “Wait means  _wait_. No means… try something else. Or they mean nothing at all. It doesn’t matter; you can decide. The  _only_ word that matters is ‘stop’, and I need you to  _remember_  that, Wally. I trust you to stop when I say ‘stop’, and I want  _you_  to say ‘stop’ if you need  _me_  to stop. I won’t…” He paused uncertainly, because he was used to this; Wally wasn’t. What if he forgot? But it was an easy enough word, and he could learn. “I won’t hold off for anything else, and neither will you. If I hesitate, if I try to throw you off—” Which, if he did try, he’d probably be successful so he wasn’t sure how much weight that held. “—none of it means that I want you to stop. I’m trusting you to  _let me know_  if you’re uncomfortable with anything at all, and you need to trust me to do the same, and we do it  _only_  through this safe word.” His eyes pinned Wally down, intense, steady. “Stop. Remember it. Say it now.”

Wally exhaled under Dick’s squeeze, breath ruffling the dark lock of hair tufting out over his ear. Dick was the “wrong” size; too big; to angular, but Wally found that he really  _liked_  that, the way his arms wrapped around him, holding him together. Sometimes he felt like he’d rattle apart, and Dick made him feel … contained. He almost felt sorry when Dick backed away, and let the cool air rush in. 

“Then we need to establish something.”

Wally rolled his eyes a little at the insinuation that he didn’t even  _know_  what a safe word was, but he was a little surprised that Dick needed tonight.  _How far did he think they would go?_  Wally wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for “everything.” Just. The logistics of it. 

Actually, though, as Dick walked him through the rules, he felt relieved. Relieved to know that Dick would  _tell_  him, verbally, where the lines were; he wouldn’t have to guess; he wouldn’t have to figure out what every little movement meant.

He’d  _trust_  that Dick knew his own limits. That they wouldn’t wake up tomorrow wondering how they’d gotten themselves into this mess.

He’d never thought about it before - that somehow he thought he knew what Dick was more comfortable with than  _Dick_  did. That was awful, and this was such a weight off his shoulders.

And … it wasn’t like he’d forget the meaning of “stop” under any circumstances - or, for that matter, “wait” or “no.” He’d never really been into pretending that sort of … power imbalance. At least not to the point that  _those_  words lost their meaning. And in spite of Dick’s, uh,  _scolding_  today - and he’d try really hard  _not_  to - he was probably not going to be able to help erring on the safe side tonight.

He nodded his head somberly, giving Dick’s hands a squeeze and saying, “Stop. I got it.” Another soft squeeze. “It’s ‘stop’.” 

“Okay,” Dick smiled, relief evident in the slump of his unconsciously squared shoulders, because Wally was taking all of this in stride and that was… good. It was a whole lot more than he was expecting, and considering he’d managed to think up quite a large number of worst case scenarios over the past week, this was  _excellent_. He slid back on Wally’s legs, nimble fingers unbuckling his belt and pulling down his zipper, and if Wally had any qualms about Dick grabbing both his jeans  _and_  boxers, he didn’t let them show as he lifted his hips and Dick tugged them— _everything_ —down, off, onto the floor.

There was skin—so much—too much, and Dick. Dick needed to distract himself  _now_.

“So  _that’s_  where it ends,” he laughed—loud, warm—nudging long legs apart and nuzzling the soft skin of freckled thighs where the blush began to fade, laying his cheek on the sinewy muscle and grinning at his boyfriend’s very eager erection. Not exactly new, but definitely surreal.

Wally. Sprawled on his back. So hard for  _him_.

“Why hel- _lo_  there.” Dick could almost imagine the look on Wally’s face. “I think you’ve  _grown_  since I last saw you.”

Which was somewhat of a lie, because the last time he’d clearly seen Wally’s dick—Dick stifled a giggle like he was thirteen again—he hadn’t paid enough attention to notice anything other than that the speedster was bigger. But Dick was just hitting his first growth spurt, back then. He’d caught up.

_For me. You’re here. For **me**._

“I really want to blow you.”

His frankness surprised even him, but Dick was already walking two fingers up the sheets between his boyfriend’s legs, and it was either say something even  _stupider_  or do something else with his mouth, so he cupped Wally’s balls with one hand, parted his lips and sank down on him— _down, down_ —relaxing his throat until his nose brushed the soft curls at the flat of the base, watching Wally through the hair in his eyes and oh Dick was  _aching_ , harder than he’d been in so long, but somehow it didn’t _matter_  because Wally was arching into his mouth  _moaning_  because of _him_  and there was  _nothing_  more important than this sight this smell these sounds this  _taste_.

 _I can_ —he could— _ **have**  this._

Wally opened his mouth to wonder aloud how he’d fallen for such an unbelievable dork, but that was quickly swallowed with a needy whimper when: "I really want to blow you," Dick said, walking his fingers between his legs to his balls.

Then he swallowed him whole. 

And, just  _barely_  prepared, Wally threw his head back with a soft cry, trying so hard not to push back into him, but it didn’t even matter because -  _ **fuck**  how does he have no gag reflex? - _soon he felt Dick’s lips encompass his base, and  _everything_ was  _pressure,_ hot and wet, each swipe of Dick’s tongue along his shaft, the way his hands fisted the sheets so hard that he could still feel the press of his fingernails into his palms through the cloth, the twist of the muscles in his back as he arched up off the bed, desperate, needy.

It had been  _so long_. So long since someone had touched him like this, with such _intensity_ , and - he  _hated_  to admit it, but - it had been lonely, the nights he curled up with a pillow, distracting himself with schoolwork until he passed out, book open on his bed. All the times he’d picked up his phone and  _almost_  texted Dick, the months that flowed by like molasses. 

And it was worth. Every. Second.

His palms tingled and the tingle spread to his spine, and he choked on Dick’s name, trying to warn him, but it dissolved into a wail, and then Dick spread his hands over the inside of his thighs and rubbed to the back of his knees, and Wally was consumed, lost, buzzing, wound  _tight_ , and he broke. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For science.

Dick choked.

In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea to deep-throat Wally just as the speedster tried to speak, but in his defense Dick hadn’t wanted Wally  _coherent_ enough to talk, which. At least it worked? It might have been an even  _worse_  idea to try to breathe through his nose as he held himself down, because suddenly his throat was coated with  _hot_  and  _thick_ going down the wrong way, forcing him to pull off, coughing and spluttering and barely remembering to replace his mouth with his hand, semen and saliva dribbling down his chin as he hacked up a lung and jerked Wally through his orgasm, the wall of tears building up in his eyes making the  _watching_  part unnecessarily difficult.

Wally was—

_So fucking **gorgeous**._

—boneless, blissed out, still faintly vibrating, sagging into the mattress in a way Dick had  _never_  seen before—

 **_I_ ** _did that._

—lips parting in a low sound of protest, twitching in Dick’s hand because—

—he’d forgotten to let go. Green eyes fluttered open, glazed, unfocused— _welcome back, beautiful_ —a hint of concern fighting through the post-orgasm haze, and Dick hastened to swipe at his eyes and rub the back of his hand over his mouth, clearing his throat until it stopped stinging.

“It’s—I’m fine,” he reassured hoarsely, laughing a little because  _damn_. He probably looked as much of a mess as Wally. “Caught me off-guard is all.” Really shouldn’t have, though, no matter how quick it was. Dick _knew_ speedsters. Everything was fast for them.

“Forget  _me_ , you should—”

And he had to lean down, suck lightly on the head of Wally’s oversensitive cock and  _feel_  him jolt—

“You should see  _yourself_.”

—dip his tongue into the bellybutton that still tasted faintly of strawberry and sweat, just enough to overcome the weird—not  _bad_ ; just… odd—taste of come. He’d never tried swallowing before; it wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. They just needed. Better timing.

“ _Fuck_ , Wally.”  _Practice_. “You’re  _amazing_. The things I want to  _do_  to you.”

 _God_. He needed.

“The things I want you to do to  _me_.”

That bead of sweat making its way down Wally’s neck needed to be licked. Dick took care of it.

“Next time,” his grin was virtually  _audible_. “You should fuck my mouth.”

As he came to, Wally’s cheeks flushed a dark red, up to the tips of his ears with embarrassment, and he tried to apologize —  _for coming too fast, for choking Dick, for_  — but it couldn’t quite make it through the float and the fuzz, and _e_ _verything that came out of Dick’s mouth left him more and more speechless_.

He could only moan as Dick’s tongue traced a wet trail along his neck, tangling his hands into the dark locks while Dick said things that made him  ** _ache_  **and writhe.He finally pulled himself together enough to bring Dick up to meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“ _Wow_ ,” he whispered, gently pressing his forehead to Dick’s. “That was, uhm … ” He tried to remember the last time he’d come so hard, so overwhelmingly, and he couldn’t. “I … ” —  _I can’t find the words_  — he trailed off, cheeks flushing a shade darker, embarrassed that he couldn’t express the way Dick had felt. The way Dick had made him _feel_. Maybe it was just because it’d been so long … but he doubted it.

He let his gaze drift over Dick’s face to his lips —  _those lips_ _, oh **god**_  — and he noticed that —  _well_  — “You, ah, have a little …” Wally brought his hand up to cup Dick’s cheek and rub his thumb over the stray drop of come that remained just beneath his bottom lip, but he didn’t. Instead, he did something he’d never,  _ever_ done before: he leaned down and kissed it away.

And he kept kissing, down Dick’s jaw and back up it, capturing his lips: a kiss that became more and more fevered —  _he tastes like **me**_  — as his hands wrapped possessively around Dick’s back; Wally drew him down, over him, and, never breaking his onslaught, he wrapped a leg around him and flipped them over, bracing himself over his boyfriend as he mouthed his way over his neck, grinding carefully down on him as he nibbled on his collarbone, catching a nipple between his teeth, and then his finger and thumb as he went farther south, mouth open and tongue tracing the outlines of Dick’s abs until he —

He paused when he reached the waist of Dick’s jeans, and truth be told, he was _terrified_. Not about whether or not he wanted to do this, or even whether he would enjoy it — his little fit in the alley had cleared that up nicely for him — but just —

Dick had been so amazing, and what if, in the end, he didn’t like it? Even if Wally was  _okay_  at it — though he was pretty sure had a gag reflex, and Dick had almost … it was almost like he’d  _practiced_  or something — what if it just … didn’t work? What if this was just something they couldn’t have? He almost didn’t want to knowthe answer, and just … exist in this little Schrodinger’s Sex Bubble forever.

But he couldn’t.  _It was time to kill and/or save the cat._

His fingers trembled a little as he bit his lip and massaged Dick with one hand, the other poised just over his jeans button. Wally peeked up through thick eyelashes at Dick, propped up on his elbows, staring back with those crystal blue eyes, pink tongue darting out over glistening lips, and asked a silent question: _This okay?_

Dick nodded, a little urgently. Grinning, Wally unzipped Dick’s jeans and pushed open his fly, his cock erect against his stomach. He twitched under Wally’s light grip as he ran his thumb from his base to the bottom of his head, and Wally shivered in kind, his Cheshire grin stretching wider across his face. The skin around Dick’s hips was just a little flushed and warm, and when Wally planted a wet, open mouthed kiss on them he jerked; Wally reached over and pinned him down against the mattress, and — _waiting just a second for a “wait,” “no,” or “stop”_   — ran the flat of his tongue from his base to his tip and swallowed him.

His elbows gave way under him and Dick crashed onto the mattress, throwing up a hand reflexively to bite into and stifle his whimper only  _oh god_ that hand still tasted like _Wally_  and was he  _supposed_  to be able to stop himself from sucking two fingers into his mouth because if so he was failing  _spectacularly_  and he _didn’t even care_. Propping himself up on one arm, Dick craned his neck as far as he could but it still wasn’t—he couldn’t—

“Wally,” the name came out muffled, and Dick was forced to disengage his fingers reluctantly; he had to get it out before his boyfriend scrambled his brain like  _eggs_. “Wally, wait.  _Wait_.”

He  _felt_  Wally freeze, pulling off and looking up and why was it so hard to find words that weren’t  _“No don’t stop!”_  because he was taking this the wrong way Dick just wanted—

“Let me—” he moaned, trying to smile, to reassure, but it was taking all his focus to not just  _grab_  the speedster and shove him back down. “Sit. Let me sit up I want to— _oh_  I want to  _see_  you can— _can_  I…?”

That was a ‘yes’, wasn’t it? That little grin was Wally  _blushing_  it was hard to tell he was still a bit red and oh so pretty, helping Dick push himself up lean against the headboard, letting him grasp for his hand, lick the palm and lead it down between them.

“I.” Wally was  _watching_  him, firm fingers wrapped around his length, and Dick should probably ask—make sure Wally knew he didn’t have to return the favor—that he didn’t need to…

 _Fuck it_.

“ _Suck_  me already, will you?”

The grin stretched bigger,  _brighter_ ; Wally went down on him again without a word, and Dick should probably make a note of how good his best friend was with orders, except he was too busy  _staring_.

“You’re so  _beautiful_ ,” he said reverently, reaching to touch Wally’s back, stretched out before him, lean muscle and curving spine and he could see the  _tattoo_  for the first time, fully healed, lightning bolts arching down just over his ass and oh god the sight was making him even  _harder_  in Wally’s mouth.

“Wally,  _Wally_ , that’s—” Dick didn’t even know what he was saying anymore because Wally was  _humming_  around him and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open fist the soft red hair and babble the only things he could think of everything he could  _feel_. “You’re—that feels  _fantastic_ —your  _tongue_ — _god_  do that  _again_.”

It wasn’t the most perfect blowjob he’d ever received by a long shot but Wally was  _eager_ — _he loves me_ —and it  _was_  the  _best_  one, and Dick had never been this close this fast before but he fought to hold off— _wait_ —he couldn’t let this end just yet, not when Wally was getting _better_  by the _second_.

“ _Harder_.” Wally was being—too careful—Dick should give him another reminder—not porcelain—something—he couldn’t  _remember_ — “You can go. As fast as you want—or—”  _Oh no don’t slow down_ ; he really needed to stop  _talking_.“Fuck you can do  _whatever you want_  I—”

Robin laughed. Gasped. He didn’t even know.

“I  _swear_  I can shut up long enough for you to make me come.”

 _God, Dick wouldn’t **shut up**._  Wally closed his eyes and took Dick deeper, faster, harder — not  _all_  the way — but a little more each time, eliciting another moan and some barely audible comment from his boyfriend, and Wally couldn’t help but grin around him.  _It was **awesome**_.

He was relaxing into it now, rubbing deep circles with his thumbs into the hips he had pinned tight, rookie jitters dissolving as he got caught up in the rhythm of it; in Dick’s taste and feel and those  ** _sounds_** ; it was unspeakably  _hot_ , and he himself was achingly stiff again. 

Dick tugged on his hair, and Wally groaned _wantonly_ and slid flat on his stomach because he needed to  _grind._ His leverage over Dick’s hipbones wasn’t quite as good at this angle, and Dick had arched up into him, keening — _and_ _Dick wasn’t supposed **to feel this good**  against his tongue, against the back of his mouth _—but he  _had_  to backup.

Secretly hoping he’d pressed hard enough to  _bruise,_ to  _mark_ , he pulled his knees under him again, and wrapped one free hand around Dick’s base and —  _maybe_ _this was bad blowjob etiquette_  — but the other around himself, squeezing, trying so hard not to come  _again_ , already. He was trembling with effort —  from this angle he could look up through his eyelashes and see Dick above him —  _hair in his eyes lips parted long neck craned **gorgeous**_. The tremble turned into a whine, and he hadn’t really planned on this —  _not with his **whole mouth**  wrapped around Dick, he didn’t know how  **sensitive**  he was, he couldn’t  **think** , he wasn’t in  **control**_ — but he also couldn’t  _help_  it, and it stuttered into vibrations, his fingers pushing down, palms massaging down the base of his cock, just above his balls, the beginning of his throat shivering around Dick’s head, his tongue sweeping up his length as he hummed and  _moaned_ helplessly.

 _Come **with**  me_, he was about to say when Wally suddenly started— _fuck_ —his  _mouth_ —he was  _vibrating_ —

“Ёбанный в рот,” Dick gasped, body collapsing over Wally, muscles locking up in a strange combination of shock and ecstasy and he couldn’t _see_  Wally anymore, face pressed against his head, barely  _breathing_ as his boyfriend  _buzzed_  around him drove him out of his  _mind_.

_I love you._

He was reasonably sure he didn’t pass out because he could still feel _everything_  Wally was doing, every minute movement of his tongue his lips his  _hand_  but it was so  _fast_  blurring together until he was  _drowning_  in waves of sensation he couldn’t control couldn’t  _escape_ , so he handed himself over to his best friend and just… drifted.

_I love you._

At some point Dick realized he was sort of… chewing on Wally’s hair, and a part of him had the sense to stop, gather himself enough to— _touch_ —pet over smooth, unscarred skin, Wally’s thighs blocking access to his cock but Dick could reach his chest, find a pert little nipple and  _pinch_ , and the way Wally moaned made his eyes flutter shut, the heat in his stomach seeping lower and coiling and coiling and—

“সরো!” he tugged weakly at his hair, close  _so close_ —

Wally seemed to have taken the hint, lips opening—the heat of his mouth suddenly  _gone_ —hand wrapped around him and  _pumping_ —Dick barely had the self-control to let him up—trail fingers down his abs—

 _Come **with**  me_—

“मैं तुमसे प्यार करता हुँ **|** ” he whispered, and—

Fell.

Wally was  _lost_ , hands over soft skin— _abs_ ,  _hips, thighs, long scars, long legs, sharp hips, knees, calves_ —and flavors— _salty and bitter and **new**_ —fingers around his nipples and a pinch and he barely realized the tug at his hair— _yes_   _so **good**_ —was meant as a warning. When he tuned in to what Dick was telling him, he couldn’t even kneel  _upright_ ; he just fell off him, head on Dick’s hip next his cock, eyes half-open, watching Dick arch into the palm that had replaced his mouth, running his own fingers over himself at the same rhythm— _praying it wasn’t too fast_ —panting, trying to catch his breath and—

_Was Dick speaking in **tongues**? _

The thought sent a burst like fireworks through his center, leaving him shivering and feverish and just—he curled into himself, head still braced against Dick; he wanted to  _see_ — _please let me **see**_ —palms tingling, almost  _numb_ , and— _together, **together**_ —he came with a cry as thin strips of white were painted across Dick’s torso—a wave of elation breaking over him as he tilted his head to catch a glimpse of Dick’s face— _neck arched, throat open for kissing, for marking, for **me** , eyes shut, cheeks flushed, face flooded with euphoria_—

It was the most stunning thing he’d ever seen, and he choked out a broken “ _ **Yes** ”_—

—before collapsing completely. 

He melted; Wally melted into the bed, into Dick like warm chocolate, flowing his way slowly up to be level with Dick, tucking himself under Dick’s arm and burying his head into his collarbone.

He almost had to  _laugh_ at the delight that permeated his every pore, at the  _relief_ ; if he weren’t so destroyed he’d want to  _run_ , run until his feet hurt, until his arms ached from being held above his head, until he couldn’t stand up, until— _well_ —until he felt as close as he could get to how he felt  _right now_.  

The absurd tautology tickled, and he giggled into Dick’s collarbone, an exhausted, victorious laugh— _god I love you, I love you so much, so so much, you’ve broken me_ —until Dick opened his eyes to look at him.

 _"Wooooo!"_  he said,  _completely_  sincere,  _triumphant_ , a ridiculous counterpoint to Dick’s artful tongue, but he couldn’t  _find words_  so he put it as best he could into a firm, joyful kiss:

_I **love**  you._

If he could laugh, he totally would— _did you just **cheer**?_ —but as it was he couldn’t even really kiss back. Wally did all the work; Dick kind of just sat there and. Petted his hair. Then grinned as his hand brushed over a wet patch and…  _another_  wet patch.

“I think you caught some in your hair,” he mumbled into Wally’s mouth, licking over a row of teeth and biting at his bottom lip. Wally shifted against him, a comfortable weight draped over his body, both of them sweaty and warm and more than a little sticky in the most wonderful way. “I’ll help you wash it out tomorrow.”

Water conservation. It was a legitimate thing.

Wally sucked on his tongue in reply. Dick could barely move his lips, but he somehow mustered the energy to groan, sliding a hand down Wally’s back and cupping his ass.

Breaking away was harder than it should have been.

“Guess all those rumors about speedsters are true.” He wrapped his free arm around Wally, but his boyfriend squirmed out of the grip, sliding down until his head was settled in Dick’s lap. Robin carded long fingers through red hair and smiled at the kisses dipping into the hollows of his hips.

“You gotta give me another minute, KF.” His cock didn’t fully agree, twitching weakly in anticipation, but. “It’s your own fault. I could’ve done two in a row, but you had to go and make that  _mindblowing_.”

“ _Yeah?_ " Wally said, maybe a little too much surprise slipping into his voice. "Tch … _duh_ , of  _course_ ,” he covered, rolling onto his back to look straight up at Dick with a cheesy grin. He tucked one hand behind his head and checked his fingernails on the other: “This  _is_  the Wallman you’re talking about.”

Wally swiveled so he lay perpendicular to Dick, who was still leaning back against the headboard, legs stretched in front of him. They made a good pillow, and Dick adjusted his hands from petting Wally’s head to absentmindedly tracing his fingers over the ridges of Wally’s ears. It was incredible how  _non_ chalant Wally felt, totally buck naked, legs bent a little and braced on the wall on the far side of the bed, big toe unconsciously tracing the bottom edge of his NuTrek poster.

A silence fell over them. Dick seemed content, one thumb brushing the sides of his jaw, the other carding through his bright red hair again. Wally grew antsy, though, as the moment dragged on, and he fidgeted—squirming slightly to get more comfortable, leaning into the slight rise and even fall of Dick’s diaphragm just above Wally’s head.

_**Oh** , we should really …_

"Just a sec," Wally said, a soft breeze replacing his spot until he returned a millisecond later with some tissues to wipe Dick off, and he himself palmed through his hair, making a little face. "I hear it makes good hair gel, though." He barked a laugh, maybe too loud, tossing a balled up tissue into the bin.

Crawling back to his previous spot, he settled in again; Dick’s hands resumed their pleasant, languid roaming, and Wally tried to relax into the moment, but he just couldn’t get quite … he tossed to one side and then the other, finally coming to rest on the side facing Dick, with his face buried into the juncture of his hip.

"Wally?" Dick asked, giving him a squeeze on his shoulder.

Wally swallowed a second, blinking, unsure. The curve of Dick’s hipbone filled his vision. "So, uhm. So what did you like?" he asked, "You know. For. For science." 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, _feelings?_ Really.

This time Dick did laugh, hands stilling for a moment as he enjoyed the flush rising in freckled cheeks, sliding down the headboard until their faces were almost level, Wally’s head pillowed on his chest, and Dick’s eyes could convey the full extent of his amusement.

“What, my running commentary didn’t give you an idea?” And he was back to just— _touching_ Wally again, little brushes over his eyes, nose, jaw, down his neck and over his shoulders and arms, the feeling of _so much skin_ under his fingertips _addictive_.

 _What’s wrong?_ he didn’t ask, choosing to answer the question properly.

“I liked the way you looked at me.” _Like I was the only thing in the world._ “I liked your hands on my hips, holding me down.” _God knows I couldn’t do it myself_ . “And your _tongue_ —god, Wally, has anyone told you that thing’s practically _sinful?_ ” Dick pressed his thumb to Wally’s lips—rubbing—“Oh well. It’s all mine now. Not that a bit of practice would hurt. I’m _totally_ willing to be your guinea pig for the unforeseeable future.” He probably shouldn’t sound so happy about it, should probably stop himself from draping an arm over Wally’s waist, stroking, cupping—“I liked watching… this.”— _squeezing_ —“All that running paid off in more ways than one, hmm?”

Dick tucked a strand of red hair behind Wally’s ear, but it didn’t stay put. Too short.

That was okay. He could do it again, and leave his hand there.

“If I close my eyes, I can still hear the _sounds_ you made—you made me _so hard_.” He was making _himself_ hard now, lashes fluttering shut, imagining Wally _moan_. “This was probably record time for me. And then you started _vibrating_.” Another squeeze. Nails lightly scratching the back of Wally’s neck. Lips parting in a stuttered sigh. “I might require a scientific explanation for how your mouth can _do_ that.”

Dick knew, of course. It wasn’t anything new. Why he hadn’t thought that could be applied to this situation as well was somewhat of a mystery to him.

“Know what I liked best?” Wally’s eyes were wide, ridiculously green. Trained on him like he didn’t fully understand and—

 _This_ was new. This sudden… need to drop his gaze when Wally looked at him like _that_ , the shyness and the blush he had to fight to keep down.

“I loved that _you_ liked it,” Dick whispered, and didn’t say, _I love that you love_ **_me_** _._

A smile quirked at the edge of Wally’s lips, and he tucked his fingers under Dick’s bangs. The shy expression on Dick’s face made a lump form in his throat, not from sadness, but because it was somehow _reassuring_ that Dick also … because Wally had been scared. _Really_ scared. _Surprisingly_ scared, and the fact he was _so_ scared, honestly, was scary. He hated to admit it; it was dumb to still be fishing for reassurance— _it had been_ **_awesome_ ** _just now. Everything was_ **_okay_ **.

But it hadn’t hit him just how enormous this was; what he— _they—_ were risking by doing this; all of it, _any_ of it, until tonight.

He pushed away his first instinct to bluster, to say something cocky; his second—to crawl over Dick and kiss him until he couldn’t see straight, to just drown in the feel of him and never think about how he was scared again. The second instinct was certainly more sincere, but it felt … misleading somehow. Like he’d gone into this hiding something from Dick—hiding from _himself_ as well, but still.

"I’m really glad,” he said instead, softly. “Because I …”

He rolled onto his back again, pillowed against Dick’s ribs closing his eyes against Dick’s fingers, roaming now over his face and chest, light, loving.

“I don’t think I could go back,” he said, swallowing.

Dick froze.

“I couldn’t go back,” he repeated, blinking against watering eyes, a labored sigh escaping him. _Christ, West, you’re worried about nothing. Nothing bad is even happening, what the hell._

He was having trouble figuring out what he was even trying to _say_ , phantom fears at the edge of his mind: when he tried to look at them straight on, they evaporated.

_Couldn’t go back to what? He couldn’t go back to last year? To losing Dick completely? To just being friends? What?_

He almost wished he were _angry_ , that this was a _fight_ ; that’s when stuff like this usually appeared; it was so much easier to attack it than to … _examine it? Was that the word?_

Maybe he was maturing.

He couldn’t see where the vines were going in the forest, so he returned to the root, and the confession slipped out before he could figure out how to say what he was getting at. “I was scared,” he almost whispered. “Really scared. I -”

_Don’t totally understand why._

“—because if—if you didn’t like it—if. I couldn’t.” _Juvie and Slade and death and Dick's **past** … if I couldn’t _ **_beat_ ** _them—if I couldn’t give you a healthy life, a healthy_ **_love_ ** _life **-**_

“I just,” he trailed off and tried again. “I couldn’t go back to last year. I can’t go back to you out of my life completely—I … ”

It took Dick a few moments to shake off the initial surge of panic and. Breathe.

Look up at the ceiling and count the cracks in paint.

“Last year was pretty shitty, wasn’t it,” he said quietly, folding his arms behind his head to stop them from moving, _distracting_. Wally’s hair tickled his stomach, creating a mild itch he didn’t really care to scratch. Something to focus on.

_Seven, eight._

He sighed. “Wally. I can’t exactly promise something like that won’t happen again. That’s…” _Not how our lives work._ “I can’t even promise that we won’t have a fight and stop talking to each other for a while.” Because they did fight a good bit, even though they rarely took each other seriously, and relationships were always. They weren’t exactly _easy_.

Even though that’s how this felt. _Easy_. Familiar. Comfortable because the only people who knew them better were their mentors, and even that was debatable. But they hadn’t exactly been… official… for long, and they hadn’t seen a whole lot of each other during that time. There was a lot of baggage in this one.

A _lot_ of baggage. And most of it was Dick’s.

_Fifteen, sixteen…_

He couldn’t promise they’d never break up, because he didn’t know how long Wally would be willing—no, that wasn’t right; Wally would always _want_ to help—how long he’d be _able_ to deal with Dick’s issues. It was exhausting for _him_ ; it wasn’t _fair_ to ask another person to… share this weight. It wasn’t.

_Twenty-nine, thirty…_

“But I,” he cleared his throat discreetly. _Thirty-five, thirty-six…_ “I do love you.” Which made up for absolutely nothing. “And we got through last year. Just us. _We_ did it, you know?” Dick wound his fingers into his own hair and pulled. Made it hurt just a little. “If we could do that, I kinda want to think—or—I _do_ think, actually—that we can get through everything else, too. I mean, it might take a while, sure. But it’s you and me, man.” Dick and Wally. Robin and Kid Flash. They weren’t _invincible_ together, but they came close. “How can we _not_ be okay?

“No, I—” That wasn’t quite what Wally meant. Or maybe it _was_ ; Wally wasn’t sure himself right now.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, a _yeah, of course_ underlying his tone. “And …"

 _We_   ** _are_ ** _okay, and_ **_I’m_ ** _being over dramatic._ Or something. _There’s_ **_no way_ ** _you’d bail on me for good._ He’d overstated it, and he adjusted himself physically to try to work out the kinks.

Leaning over Dick diagonally, he braced one hand at his opposite hip, and caught Dick’s in the other, interlacing his fingers. He had a sudden craving for the day-old donuts he’d bought last night, the night of the almost-sext— _normally he’d just eat his feelings when they were acting up like this_ —but it seemed a little rude to do that, especially when, well, they were stale donuts that Dick probably wouldn’t want. Among other things.

Regardless.

"I meant _this_ ,” Wally said, waving his hand to indicate their naked shenanigans. “I was just …” he choked on the word a little, “… scared.” Squinting at the corner of his room, Wally frowned as he tried to figure it out how to put it.

“I just never thought I’d be worried about being jealous of girls because I,” he snorted, “uh, didn’t have the right parts.”

Dick just looked at him.

“What I mean is that if we couldn’t … like, if _this_ didn’t work out, because of outside things we can’t control, and we couldn’t stay together because—” he took in a breath. “If I couldn’t make you, uh—give _this_ to you, tonight, or not even _eventually_ , because I know we’d try really hard …”

 _Ugh this was hard_ , and the more he talked, the sillier he felt getting worked up about such a _non-problem because it was all okay._

“… but I don’t know what I’d do.” He half laughed, letting his head fall to Dick’s shoulder, and he muffled his embarrassment into his collarbone. “But I’m pretty sure I’d resent every single one of your girlfriends for the rest of my life.”

It sounded so dumb, saying it out loud, and he tried and failed not to giggle, “… I’m _also_ pretty sure I just hit sixth-grade girl level just now anyway. Maybe we should take a _Cosmo_ test to see if this will all work out.”  

Running his thumb along Dick’s palm, he murmured: “The point is, I’m really glad.” _Relieved, grateful, feel like I can do almost anything if I put my tongue to it. Heh._ "That you liked it.“

“You were worried that we wouldn’t be… sexually… compatible…” Dick rolled the words around on his tongue for a few extra syllables, but that didn’t make them sound any less weird, out loud or in his head. “I.” _Don’t really know what to say?_

“I know I haven’t actually had many… _favorable_ —” _Or consensual_. “Encounters with guys, but I… _have_ always liked both guys _and_ girls.”

_Species notwithstanding._

It wasn’t something they’d actually talked about, because when _Dick_ realized it he’d been the victim of a very unfortunate and highly embarrassing crush that he’d really rather not speak of. Ever. He’d rather not _think_ about it if he could.

“I’ve found _you_ physically attractive for a pretty long time, dude. There was just never a pressing need to _do_ anything about it until last year.” Red hair, pretty eyes, nice butt, _abs_ , what was there not to like? When he’d noticed, it had just been an observation. More of an _I’d tap that_ than an active _I_ **_want_ ** _to tap that_. Besides, Dick had been happily dating Zatanna at the time, and Wally had been with Artemis, and… frankly he hadn’t even _considered_ it.

“I don’t. Know if I’ll be up for _everything_ , but _this_.” He pulled Wally up for a soft kiss, just a quick press of lips to prove a point. “This is wonderful, Wally. I… well, I started it, so you know I like it.” He’d been starting just about everything, but that was. Dick could freak out about that in his own time. “The rest of it… it was _amazing_ , but it’s not actually a _requirement_ … for me.” If for some odd reason it _hadn’t_ worked out, Dick would never have held Wally down to him, not when this was clearly so important to _Wally_ —and he couldn’t help but be glad that he could give his best friend something he _wanted_ —but he didn’t need to say it now. Not when Wally’s fears were already alleviated, even though Dick still didn’t fully… _get_ it. “It _sucked_ that shit happened, but I wouldn’t be here right now otherwise, so I can’t say I wish it _hadn’t_ happened, you know? I _like_ where I am. And I’m not going to let a couple bad experiences stop me from running my life the way _I_ want.” His voice grew quiet. Fierce. “ _I love you_. This _would_ have worked out _no matter what_ because _I love you and they can’t_ **_take_ ** _that from me_.”

They could have. They couldn’t stop him from wanting Wally, but they _could_ have stopped Wally from wanting him.

But they _didn’t_.

And they couldn’t anymore.

Wally nuzzled into Dick’s neck, squeezing Dick tight, tight against him. “Yeah, I love you, too,” he said, confident, _firm_. The one thing he was sure of.

He shouldn’t be too surprised that Dick had always liked guys, too; though he was a little surprised he hadn’t noticed. He pushed away the thought that there had been other  _guys_  and just kind of … breathed against Dick, kissing lightly against his collarbone, feeling Dick’s hands running over his back, so relaxing, so _safe_. When he pulled back to give Dick a proper kiss, though … his stomach growled like a starving lion.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many more shenanigans to come. So to speak.

_ Augh _ . Wally bit his tongue, a little embarrassed for having killed the mood, and sighed, letting his forehead fall against Dick’s. 

“I guess I should go … eat,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You want anything?" 

Shaking his head ‘no’, Dick pushed Wally off the bed and toward the kitchen. 

"Be right back,” Wally said as he pulled on a nice soft pair of flannel pajamas. The refrigerator was nice and cool as he leaned into it, scavenging some orange juice and the box of day-old donuts, pausing to get Dick a glass of water in case he wanted it later.  

Crawling to the side of the bed, Dick walked out of it on his hands as Wally wandered down the stairs, the floorboards creaking slightly as he shifted his weight from one hand to another. He used to have just about everything in this room memorized, but it was… emptier than he remembered. Most of Wally’s stuff was in his dorm now, including a few of his favorite posters. Their spaces on the walls looked—

It had been a long time since Dick last came to Wally’s house. They frequented Mount Justice and the manor more often, or Iris and Barry’s house, but he’d never gone more than two months without paying a visit, offering some freshly-baked Alfred specialty to Wally’s mom and trying to avoid Mr. West.

He eased himself back to his feet to observe the bookshelf, cataloguing the missing books, then flipped back onto one hand to pull the drawer of his desk open with the other.

Oh, hey. Those were his shades. He must have left them behind _ages_ ago. 

Downstairs, Wally's torso felt deliciously sore as he stretched one way and the other before popping a donut between his teeth and heading upstairs. He was actually pretty tired. _Big day, I guess_.

 _Right. Enough snooping_. Dick shoved the drawer back and listened to Wally coming up the stairs, handwalking around the bed to push his body up into a final stretch when—

Wally almost choked on his donut at his bare-ass friend—literally, he was facing away from the door— _and_ _**_smack_** — _ if he couldn’t use his super speed to swat Dick on the butt then what did he blow himself up for?

 

“Oh, real mature, KF,” he rolled his eyes as Wally flopped onto the mattress with his donuts, bringing one leg down in front of him, balancing carefully on it before pushing his other leg in the opposite direction, toes just brushing the ground behind his hands. Once the soles of both his feet were firmly on the floor, he lifted his arms up and to the side, a wide grin splitting his face. “Ta-daaaa~”

Bruce and Alfred made for a terrible audience. Wally was  _ much _ better. The look on his  _ face _ .

Dick laughed, throwing himself into a neat spin that brought him the right way up, then did a forward flip onto the bed, landing next to Wally on his back.

“Jelly-filled?” he gazed at the box hopefully.

“Yeah, take it,” Wally said, making a face as he handed the powdery pastry to Dick; they were his least favorite. “They’re a day old, though, sorry. I got them last night because—" 

He zipped over behind Dick and held a donut over his shoulder in front of his face. ”—Mr. Boston Creme-san,  _ ahhhnn,“  _ he squealed in falsetto, moving the Boston Creme like a puppet.

Dick choked on the jelly as Wally took a giant gooey bite by his cheek, just out of his peripheral vision, not  _ quite _ getting all the creme in at once.

"Ahffhit,” he laughed, struggling to swallow half the donut at once. Dick whipped around to lick the stray creme off Wally’s face, and to keep licking, past Wally’s lips, past his teeth, over his tongue. Laughing into the kiss, Wally returned it in kind, running warm hands over and down Dick’s back, kneading, smoothing. 

“Hmm. You’ve got a couple of knots?” Dick rarely had knots, but when he did, Wally would usually give him a once over with his “magic hands.” If he were completely honest, Dick wasn’t even that tense right now—it had just been more than a year since he’d given Dick a back rub, and he … really liked giving them. “You want a back rub?"  

“Backrub,” Dick drawled amusedly, winding his arms around Wally, thumbs dipping past the hem of his pajamas. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

But he couldn’t exactly pass up the offer. Wally could deny the existence of magic all he wanted and science out a detailed explanation that Dick already knew, but his backrubs were so magical that  _ he _ was willing to call them that.

In hindsight, all the praise may have gone to his head, but even if they hadn’t told him, their reactions would have given them away. Dick had a distressing tendency to drop all his defenses to the point that Wally would sometimes flop over him afterwards simply because it was the only time he could do it without getting kicked.

Pulling away, Dick fluffed up a pillow and faceplanted on it, then dragged himself into a comfortable position on his stomach, arms folded under his head. “Better make it worth my while, Kid  _ Vibrator _ . Considering what I’m giving up for this.”

“If you  _ say _ so,” Wally smirked, straddling Dick in his flannel pajamas. He dug around in his drawer for a bottle of hand lotion—it had been a while since he’d given any kind of proper massage at  _ all _ , and tonight had, uh, caught him by surprise to say the least, so he hadn’t had time to pick any real massage oil up. 

He squirted some on his hands, and Dick  _ hmm’d _ beneath him, turning his head and peeking at Wally above him out of the corner of his eye. Wally shot him a grin and rubbed his hands together to warm them. His palms ran lightly over Dick’s shoulders and upper back, almost brushing from the inside out, getting the feel of the planes of his muscles and bones, looking for knots.  The feel of Dick’s skin, Dick  _ beneath _ him, sent a shiver up his spine, and he let it radiate down his arms and into Dick’s shoulders and dissipate. He gradually worked his way down Dick’s back, one hand on either side of his spine, deeper and deeper, kneading the muscles, cupping his sides, sliding fingers in between his ribs as he pressed his thumbs into knots along the way.

He traced circles with his knuckles on the way back up, harder and harder until Dick groaned under the pressure, until he felt all the residual tension of the fight melt away like hot butter beneath his fingers. Warm, smooth fingers slid over the back of his neck, tracing the lines of his spine, and Wally leaned over him, chest just a fraction of an inch above Dick, no contact except the heat radiating off his torso.

He gently placed a kiss at the juncture where Dick’s neck flowed into his back, and, slipping his hands underneath Dick and over his ribs, vibrated.

It was a slow, deep rumble, and Wally continued kissing,  _ feather _ light, maddening, across Dick’s upper shoulders, and snapping at the shell of his ear as he ran his hands under Dick, over his pecs and abs, trapping him until he reached his hips and brought his palms up over his lower back. He piled one hand on top of the other and leaned, rocking his weight into it,  _ vibrating _ as he pressed down, and pausing when he lightened his touch, palming circles up one side of his spine and down the other.

Dick had begun to squirm a little beneath him, and Wally gripped Dick’s hips from behind, trapping his lower back against the bed. His lips pressed directly against the shell of Dick’s ear as he leaned over him.

“Having fun?” he asked, sending an extra strong vibration through his fingers for good measure.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ you,” Dick mumbled into the pillow, barely stifling a moan that turned into a sigh. “Or fuck me, that works too, just…”

The words trailed off his tongue and out of his mind as Wally’s fingers pressed into his hips, over bruises that were already forming from barely half an hour ago, a little painful but mostly warm and  _ not enough _ because he was already hard, and Wally was warm  _ above _ him, and Dick really wasn’t going to be able to hold still for much longer, even though his muscles were protesting at the mere  _ thought _ of movement, liquid and trembling under the speedster’s hands.

“Ouch, hey, ease up on that end,” he said as the vibrations trembled up his injured side, just the wrong side of uncomfortable, and Wally complied with a gentle bite to his earlobe, easing his hand lower and— _ far _ too close to where he  _ should _ be touching but deliberately  _ wasn’t _ , and, okay, Dick didn’t  _ used _ to have this particular reaction to Wally’s massages, but usually he wasn’t  _ naked _ and Wally didn’t amp it up this _ high _ and, yeah, he was  _ never _ going to be able to sit through one of these again without getting a boner. At least when he got one when he was fourteen it didn’t  _ mean _ anything.

Wally shot another strong wave of tremors over his back, and Dick arched into it helplessly, grinding up against the soft cloth and—oh,  _ hey _ .

“Are you  _ hard _ for me, Mr. West,” he hummed, delighted, hips rolling languidly. “Oh dear. That’s not very professional, is it?”

_ Ach _ . Wally had been just distracted enough not to dodge the push of his hips, and he closed his eyes as a whimper came out, gripping Dick’s hips to keep himself composed. Really, he had nothing to say to that anyway, because, yeah,  _ no _ , it  _ wasn't  _ that professional—and Wally had  _ zero _ problems with that.

The toothy grin crept back over his face as he shimmied further down Dick’s legs and dragged his hands over his ass, alternately pressing palms flat,  _ rubbing _ , and kneading, rolling half-fists over the supple, thick muscles there. He cupped them, thumb fitting over the juncture where his ass met his upper thighs and drummed his fingers over the sides and which turned into a delicious squeeze. 

Dick had all of one moment to mourn the loss of Wally’s wonderful weight over his ass before it was replaced by  _ hands _ , pushing and pulling until he was squirming, arching up, spine curving impossibly arms reaching back wrists locking around Wally’s neck and it didn’t take much leverage to flip them onto their sides, even less for him to roll until he was on top of Wally, seeking soft lips guiding large hands to his back— _ lower _ —rocking into a strong, flannel-covered thigh and  _ no  _ he wanted _ skin _ —

Breaking away, Dick tugged blindly at the waistband of the pajamas, except they were…

_Stuck_.

“I’m buying you  _ elastic _ pajamas,” Robin growled, fumbling for the drawstring. Wally had the gall to laugh at him, so Dick knotted instead of untying, because Wally was  _ awful _ at tying  _ any _ thing and frankly that was just embarrassing for a  _ superhero _ . “Why’re you wearing pajamas anyway? There’s no one else in the  _ house _ .”

And really, denying him the  _ view _ deserved just punishment.

Dick shimmied down his boyfriend’s thigh, trailing butterfly kisses down his throat and pausing to lick a nipple before tracing dry lips over hard abs, cupping Wally over his pajamas as his mouth found the string, missing his mark the first time—“ _ Heh. _ ”—and biting at a flat stomach. He licked his lips— _ salt on Wally’s skin _ —and went for it again, carefully working the knot with tongue and teeth, one hand  _ squeezing _ and _ stroking _ and feeling  _ wet _ seep through the thin cloth while the other slipped between Wally’s ass and the sheets and then inside the back of his pajamas, the drawstring loosening slowly— _ slowly _ —

An eternity to a speedster.

“Dude, the window blinds are  _ open _ downstai—” Wally began, but swallowed his protests as Dick glided down his body—lips on pecs, abs, hips, sending goosebumps back up as he kissed just above his waistband—and then proceeded to untie the knot he’d made with his teeth.

Wally braced himself on his elbows—he wanted to  _ see _ —and struggled to keep his hips from stuttering up into Dick— _ because that will just  _ **_slow him down_ ** _. _

A low groan escaped him, needy and frustrated, as Dick took his sweet fucking time, running his hand down Wally’s pjs, giving almost as good as he got two minutes before. Finally,  _ finally _ the knot came undone and Dick was tugging his pants around his thighs, his knees, and Wally frantically kicked them the rest of the way off while Dick climbed his way back up to snap Wally’s lower lip between his teeth; Wally kissed back in kind, sucking firmly on his tongue, cupping his hand over Dick’s ass to drag him close, legs tangled and hips pressing, rolling over the other’s.

His breath caught in his throat as he wrapped his fingers around both of them, palm still slick from the lotion, warm from the friction against Dick’s back, and he couldn’t quite chase the surreal— _ fantastic _ —feeling that flooded him away— _ how is this really happening, finally? _ The touch of Dick against him was more intense than he had thought it would be, thought it  _ could _ be, sensitive skin rubbing against each other in his palm.

Wally was almost afraid to blink because what if when he opened them Dick wasn’t there, and this had been some kind of unbelievable dream? Dick was panting, lips open and wet, staring at Wally like maybe he knew what he was feeling. 

Wally’s chest heaved against him, hand not quite closing around both their cocks, slick palm jerking up and down and his eyes held that  _ look _ again, feelings Dick could  _ return _ and there was something so  _ incredible _ in being able to  _ understand _ it—in knowing that it was reserved only for him, that those blown pupils were for  _ him _ , that Wally was hard and rocking into  _ him _ —

That he was going to come for  _ him _ and no one else.

The angle was a little awkward— _ I should… _ —and a particularly hard thrust made Dick slip out of Wally’s grip— _ oh _ —the speedster’s hand stuttering as his body fought not to stop but his brain told him to recollect, so Dick used that opportunity to wind both arms around Wally and pull them both upright—

“C’mere—”

Short nails dug into his back as Wally scrabbled for balance on his lap, firm ass bouncing on his thighs as he folded his legs under him and Wally’s around his waist, and his hips were trapped by the extra weight but Dick was starting to realize that he  _ liked _ it, his best friend solid and heavy above him,  _ here _ and  _ real  _ and controlling the pace because Wally went faster, fell apart  _ sooner _ , and it was—felt— _ perfect _ .

“ _ Better _ ,” he gasped as Wally picked him up again, pushed them together, stroking, pumping,  _ twisting _ , familiar and not because the hand was smoother, softer, and Dick licked his own palm, reached down between, threaded long—enough to hold them both—callused—just the right side of too rough—fingers through Wally’s, letting the speedster direct the motion and listening to the whine that rose in Wally’s throat, high and unfettered and—

_ His _ .

Wally didn’t even register that he was whining; he was already so close under Dick’s calloused hands, the maddening friction was so delicious, so good, so  _ good _ , and he struggled to hang on because he didn’t think Dick was  _ there _ yet, and while he could totally just give him another blowjob, he wanted to see Dick come like _ this _ ; it was so  _ different _ , something he’d never done before.

But it was really too late, and he felt a telltale shudder run down his back and straight to the head of his cock— _ dammit, too amazing,  _ **_dammit_ ** —he gripped Dick’s shoulders as his head fell back and a groan escaped him and his hips stuttered twice into their palms, vision going white, and he came, coating their fingers.

Dick paused, but flushed and breathless, Wally pulled his head back and touched it to Dick’s forehead. 

“Don’t stop,” he panted; he was just half hard, he could get there again. “ _ Please _ don’t stop.”

He couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to, Wally’s come slick and spilling over his hand, the smack of wet flesh on flesh made more obscene by the ‘please’,  _ please _ and Dick didn’t know how to refuse how to  _ speak _ , so he kissed his best friend and pumped harder and harder until all he could think about was the speedster heat the warmth of Wally’s mouth the way he twitched in his hand his voice in his head—

_ “Write me how many notes there be _

_ In the new Robin’s ecstasy—” _

—loud and strong and so bad at reciting and oh  _ yes _ ; Dick’s hips jerked helplessly at the memory—

_ “What would you know about a Robin’s  _ **_ecstasy_ ** _?” _

Dick broke the kiss with a  _ popp _ **_p_ ** , licking at Wally’s red red lips—swollen and sore and shining—biting at his long long neck—pulling and sucking until the skin darkened and purpled and it was  _ his  _ invisible mark that no one would get to see but Wally could feel it, gasping into Dick’s shoulder, throwing his head back to give him more space, hips rolling and rolling and making Dick’s vision blur as they rubbed against each other.

_ “I have a Bird in the spring _

_ Which for myself doth sing—” _

And that was so true that he had to laugh into Wally’s chest, press his lips above his heart and imagine the muscle pump, in time with his arm that moved faster, faster,  _ faster _ for  _ Wally _ .

_ “Yet, never, in Extremity, _

_ It asked a crumb—of Me.” _

_ Oh _ , Dick picked up  _ right _ where he left off, never let Wally slip from his grasp, never let him free from the lips, tongue, teeth pressing against his skin, bruising, and the pleasure and pain shooting straight to his cock, hard against Dick’s silken length, sending a tremor through his hips. 

Wally curled his fingers into the back of Dick’s hair, the top of his head brushing just under Wally’s chin as he sucked a mark on Wally’s chest.

He tugged on the black hair; DIck’s head rolled back to accomodate him, so that Wally could  _ see.  _ He’s only gotten an oblique view of Dick when he came before, barely able to lift his own head from Dick’s hip, and now he wanted to  _ see  _ what he’d always wondered about, what Dick looked like when he came, to burn it into his memory so he could see it even when they were talking over the phone, so he could have Dick  _ near _ him always, so he could know this closeness  _ inside and out _ , to make this a  _ part  _ of him, forever.  

Wally thwarted him as he surged forward for a kiss, leaning their foreheads together instead and Dick’s lips  _ throbbed  _ in need, breaths coming shorter and faster god he was so  _ close _ and Wally was still holding his hand holding  _ more _ and hah that was funny because how much more could there be when this was so  _ amazing  _ he just needed Wally’s _ tongue in his mouth to _ —

But all his best friend did was  _ look _ at him, and Dick drowned in green eyes and speedster heat and love that was too overwhelming for him to know what to  _ do  _ with other than spill over their hands with a jumbled cry that could have been Wally’s name could have been a laugh or maybe a prayer, head lolling back as his muscles gave out, only dimly aware that he was still stroking, that something was  _ yanking  _ on his hair— **_yes_ ** —that he was trembling in his boyfriend’s arms and that Wally was shaking too, _ vibrating _ just a little—

Harder—

And _harder_ —

And then there was even more warm and wet seeping through his fingers and Dick could finally,  _ finally _ , collapse into Wally’s chest, boneless and exhausted and perfectly content with never surfacing again.

Wally let himself flop over Dick’s shoulders with a shaky laugh—he’d never admit it was a giggle—lightheaded and  _ floating _ . 

They were a sloppy mess, and  _ forget _ the popsicles, he was going to have to do laundry in the morning regardless, but he couldn’t care less.

His fingers  _ ached _ as he unwound them from Dick’s hair, he had been holding it so tight, and the delicious ache radiated throughout the rest of him as he unwound completely, gently pushing Dick so that he lay on his back below him, Wally braced above, with fingers from one hand still entwined with his. 

“Hey,” he said softly, with a ridiculous, goofy grin plastered across his face. The tips of his toes traced the top of Dick’s foot to his ankle and back, soothingly,  _ maybe _ just light enough to tickle.

_ I love you I love you I love you. _

_ Nothing _ had ever felt so right; it felt right in his muscles, in the goosebumps that still hadn’t faded, in the tingle in his spine, in the brush of Dick’s thighs against his hips, the way Dick tangled their shins, the way a bead of sweat traced its way down his temple, the way Dick’s fingers trapped his own, the way his lips curled, red and kiss-worn and full, the way a bruise bloomed just below his collarbone—it could never last  _ long enough _ , he’d have to replenish it  _ daily _ —the way Dick’s pupils, blown wide with pleasure,  _ filled _ the bright blue irises, the way he looked so  _ happy _ ; happier than Wally had seen in him in a long, long time.

_ I did that _ .

**_We_ ** _ did that _ .

_ Together. _

_ I  _ **_love_ ** _ you. _

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace at last.

Dick blinked up at his best friend, senses overwhelmed and heightened as he reached around Wally, pulled him down so their skin _scraped_ together, _raw_ and _frayed_ and Dick’s lips parted in a soundless gasp as Wally  _crashed_ into his chest, red hair needling his forehead as he kissed him with bruised lips and chafed tongue.

 _Hey yourself_ , he whispered with each puff of breath into the warm mouth. _I can’t stop touching you_ , his fingers confessed, skimming down Wally’s back and over the swell of his ass, up and down and up and down and, _I think I’m going to keep touching you forever_ , because his body knew, then and there, that it would _never_ stop feeling like _this_.

Wally was silken and flaccid over his stomach, his thigh brushing Dick’s oversensitive length, and if uncomfortable could be wonderful then this was it, because absolutely _nothing_ short of a Crisis was going move him from this position for at _least_ the next eight hours.

If he took a deep breath, he could feel Wally rising and falling with his chest.

Dick breathed in deep. Released with a sigh. Yawned right into Wally’s face and laughed.

“Don’t move.” Untangling their sticky hands, he grabbed a fistful of sheets—it wasn’t as though they could be saved anyway—and cleaned them off, wrapping the cotton around Wally and stroking teasingly for a moment before winding both arms around his boyfriend. “Four times. I don’t know if I should be jealous or flattered.”

 _Heh_ , Wally huffed against Dick’s lips, glancing over at the clock.

They’d knocked it on the floor, _oops_.

He squirmed to retrieve it without climbing out of bed, fingertips just catching the power cord and Dick _oof_ ing beneath him as he inadvertently stuck an elbow in his ribs.

An hour and a half.

“ _Flattered_ , dude,” Wally grinned. “I mean, it’s not _unheard_ of, but …  not exactly _common_.”

He wiggled to lie at Dick’s side, propping himself up on one arm and draping the other across Dick’s chest. That was pretty fast. Not having sex for a year before had probably helped, however.

“But give me all weekend?” he cocked a fist in the air: “To infinity and **_beyond_**.”

Dick rolled his eyes and elbowed his obnoxious boyfriend down so that Wally’s head was cradled in his collarbone, lying snug against him. Wally let his thumb wander as they fell into a comfortable silence, tracing over Dick, a nipple here, a scar, a rib there.

They’d never turned off the TV, the muted lights of their video game dancing over them in the darkness.

“Where’s the remote?” Wally mumbled, as Dick retrieved it from the floor, too, and clicked it off, and all that was left was the moonlight filtering in his window.

Another wave of exhaustion hit him, heavy like the earlier one that evening; he’d _already_ burned through the donuts. And the enormous dinner. And the booze, apparently.

“Man, getting drunk was kinda fun,” Wally slurred, sleep already pulling at his eyelids. “We should try and see if we can get it to work again. An empty stomach or whatever it was. I dunno.”  

He hummed noncommittally as Wally shifted to find a comfortable spot on his chest that would leave his side completely asleep within the hour, and then the speedster was asleep almost mid-sentence, soft snores soon replacing quiet, even breaths.

Dick bent his trapped arm at the elbow, twirling a strand of red between his fingers, feeling his best friend’s hand unconsciously curl into a loose fist over his stomach and wondering what he’d do if he woke up tomorrow in his own bed, alone save for sticky sheets and only a fading memory of the dream that was tonight. Staying awake till Wally woke up sounded like a better idea.

But he was tired and comfortable, and counting cracks on the ceiling could only work for so long when he already knew the number and position of each fracture.

Robin swallowed against the faint aftertaste of come at the back of his throat. Richard breathed in the now-stale smell of sex.

Dick fell asleep to the sultry warmth of naked bodies twined together.


End file.
